Tangled Threads
by EvilChani
Summary: AU from CoT. Tarmon Gai'don had passed, but not in the way it was meant; the Pattern cannot be woven by prophecy alone. Spurned to action by the force of time itself, our heroes forge their own paths, reweaving the Pattern in the way the Wheel wills.
1. Chapter 0PrologueWhat the Wheel Wills

Note: I just wanted you all to know I have neither forgotten, nor abandoned, this story. The changes in the Prologue and first chapter are courtesy of my dear editor, and niece, who is now assisting me in getting the story nice and polished. So be patient. We're getting there. ;-) And, for those who need an awesome editor, my niece's handle is Saru Wolfe. She's the best!

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"_And though the Shadow had fallen, defeated by the Dragon's hand, peace did not take hold. The world howled its need of his Sword as thunder danced with lightning until the days of freedom were gone. Until the Servants became the masters."_

--from _Age of the Empire_

by Vauarair so Bakkun,

Chief Historian at the Academy of Cairhien

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_**Prologue**_

_**What the Wheel Wills**_

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_Cairhien: Sun Palace_

_22 AE (Age of the Empire)_

Leaning his head against the back of the plush chair, his pipe dangling from the fingers of his right hand, Rand al'Thor once again attempted to read the first sentence of the book he held. It wasn't that the book was uninteresting—from what he had been told, it was quite entertaining—but his mind was elsewhere. Lately, that was often the case. Yet this day was different. But why?

He sighed, setting his pipe on the table beside him. Though he had never had Nynaeve's talent for Listening to the Wind, he could feel a storm brewing. His dreams confirmed it, though even they were difficult to interpret. The one thing of which he was certain was that it was not the battles that had begun to rage throughout the land that were causing his unease. No, not those; they were…necessary. Only through rebellion would there finally be freedom. Only through bloodshed would there finally be peace. That had been a hard lesson for him to learn—for all of them to learn—yet it was one he would never forget. No, it wasn't the new war that had finally begun which caused his consternation. It was something…else. Something he could not quite identify.

Not knowing what the future held was the worst part, though he had found a way to see most of the possibilities. Few were promising, and even those not until many years had passed. This world, and what it had become, was not what he had expected. There were times he blamed himself for the current state of things. Had he not been so focused on the Last Battle, so focused he had failed to take precautions to prevent the troubles the world now faced—had been facing for twenty-two years—then maybe he could have prevented some of the turmoil. At the very least, he could have done something to… No, he would not do this to himself again. The prophecies had not warned of what came after _Tarmon_ _Gai'don_. They had not even properly warned of what he had faced _during_ that time, much less later. Even if they had given proper warning, or had given some sign of what the future held, there was no guarantee he would not have made things worse in an effort to stop them. Prophecy was as slippery as an eel, as he had learned the hard way.

Unbidden, his mind filled with memories past. It always happened when he allowed his thoughts to wander this path. There were wounds time had failed to heal, and even after more than two decades, his memories of the past sliced through his soul like a knife. The images were still so vivid. Of the blood that had been spilled…the lives that had been lost, some of which had been especially dear to him. Shortly before Tarmon Gai'don, he had stopped repeating the list of women who had died for him—such obsessions were far from healthy—but he still remembered. He still regretted. So many regrets, but dwelling on them solved nothing. What was done was done. All he could do was deal with the present as best he could. Sadly enough, he had failed in that as well, until recently.

With another sigh, he tried again to focus his attention on the book. However, the sound of a door opening at the other end of the palace distracted him and, after a moment of listening to the fall of footsteps growing steadily louder, he had no doubt as to the identity of his visitor. It still amazed him how sharp his senses remained despite the fact that they had all been returned to him. Nynaeve had explained it away and told him it was natural, that the short time he had spent unable to properly see the world around him had trained him to use all of his other senses to their fullest extent. Apparently that was not something one unlearned. Truthfully, Rand had no complaints. Not about that, anyway.

"Where is Elnore?"

Rand did not bother turning to address his friend and instead kept staring at the book he held. "Out, as usual." After a slight pause, he clarified, "She left with Arin to search for _ter'angreal_ in Old Tar Valon." Despite the war that was starting to ravage the lands, Old Tar Valon was fairly safe. No war touched it. There was no point. The place was little more than an isolated sewer, bereft of humanity or other signs of life. Why the Aes Sedai had not burned the place to the ground was beyond him; truthfully, very little they did made sense.

The clang of glass behind him was a clear indication that Logain was pouring himself a drink. No, two drinks. His friend must have realized he could use one as well. "Two days before the wedding and she's out gallivanting again?" Disapproval weighed heavy in Logain's tone as he came into view and proffered a glass of clear liquid. Asha'man brew, they had named it originally. Over the years the name had been simplified to firewater, and an apt name it was. Too strong to drink this early in the day, as far as Rand was concerned, but he took the glass anyway. "It would be better if she was here working on the wedding plans."

Better. Safer. The two were one in the same to them nowadays. Rand refrained from saying that, however. "She was more restless than usual today. So it was either let her go with Arin or leave her to her own devices. You know how she is, Logain. Forcing her to stay in one place too long with nothing productive to do is the same as asking her to start trouble."

"She _is_ trouble, Rand, and you bloody well know it." The fondness in the other man's voice was palpable. And, Rand knew, it was the truth; Elnore and trouble were one and the same, though she seemed unable to help it. "You're unusually quiet today. Something wrong?"

Finally, Rand turned his gaze away from the book and let it fall shut on his lap. "Yes, though I wish I knew what." Lifting the glass to his lips, he swallowed the clear liquid and reveled in the burning sensation it caused as it slid down his throat. The brief moment of pain was worth the relaxed feeling the drink would bring. Rand did not often indulge in drink this time of day—he seldom indulged at all—but he was on edge today. With any luck, the firewater would help calm his frayed nerves. Relaxing might bring more clarity to his thoughts than would the inexplicable tight knot of anxiety coiled in the pit of his stomach. "Elnore wasn't the only one who woke up feeling edgy."

Logain nodded. "I did as well. That's why I came here. I keep thinking about…you know." After a moment of silence, the man drained his glass dry. Rand would never understand how he could do that without so much as flinching. It truly did feel like drinking fire. "You should've kept her here today, no matter what. With the war spreading, it's dangerous." That wasn't the real problem, Rand knew. If there was anyone trained for war, other than Logain and himself, it was Elnore. They had seen to that. "What if—"

"Don't," Rand interrupted, taking another swallow of the harsh liquid before setting his glass on the solid oak table. Given the overwhelming feelings of impending trouble, he had no desire to carry this conversation further. "How are the Asha'man faring?"

"As well as can be expected." Logain let out a short breath, running his finger along the edge of his glass. "It's all I can do to resist the urge to strike now, while the White Tower is back to battling itself."

"Better their attention is not on the Black Tower," Rand responded with a humorless laugh. "Trust me, I've been there, remember? As long as you have the Castle of Mist and the grounds around it, they can't touch you. No one can." Silence fell between them, but Rand knew it wouldn't last so he broke it first. "With any luck, things will finally be set right and this war can quickly be brought to an end. I spoke with Adelorna yesterday. She has a great deal of support, though not yet enough to oust…the Amyrlin." The Amyrlin. The woman who had once been his friend. Well, not friend. Now that he looked back on his life, he realized they had never been friends. There had always been too much contention between them for that. Even so, he had believed them to be on the same side. That had proved a tragic mistake.

"Too many of them enjoy the power they wield." It was obvious Logain did not mean the One Power. "It will be difficult to convince them to give it up. That's why I've considered bringing the men out of hiding so we can aid Adelorna, though I'm not entirely sure she would want our help." His expression grew grim. Stubborn. Rand knew what the other man was going to say before he ever opened his mouth—a good friend, Logain was, but sometimes he was like a dog with a bone. Especially when it came to certain subjects. "The White Tower really doesn't concern me right now, Rand, and you know it. Elnore—"

Again, he interrupted his friend, partially out of frustration. "We can't keep her with us every waking moment, Logain. You know that. Keeping her caged would kill her."

"I can't lose her…" _Again_. The unspoken word hung in the air between them, a black cloud of pain. "I can't…" Logain's voice was barely above a whisper, but filled with so much emotion and torment that it nearly brought tears to Rand's eyes.

"I know." Everyone had suffered losses in the Last Battle and the days before—to this day, Rand still carried the wounds to his own heart—but there were times he wondered if anyone had suffered more than Logain. It was one thing to lose the one you loved; it was quite another to… His thoughts shifted in an instant, replaced with the image of a blue-eyed beauty, her perfectly oval face framed with sunburst curls. When those full red lips curled into a smile, Rand swore a dark room would glow like the sun itself. Light, how he missed her. How he missed… No, he had to stop this. Tightly closing his eyes, Rand fought the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him. Wallowing in painful wounds born of the past would accomplish nothing.

"I know you did what you had to, Rand," Logain said, his strained voice bringing Rand back to the present. "We all did."

It was true, there were times Rand wondered what he could have done to ensure a better outcome. Those thoughts had caused many sleepless nights once his part in the battle against the Shadow was done. Sometimes they still did. But something he had learned about the Pattern was that it compensated. Victory never came without a price and defeat never came without some form of recompense. There were no absolutes in the world. That, perhaps, was the most difficult lesson of all, one many others had yet to learn despite what they had seen during the battle with the Shadow so many years ago.

"Things could have turned out worse."

Rand wondered if Logain was aware of the uncertainty in his tone. Granted, things _could_ have turned out worse, but it was not as though their actions had brought sudden peace to the world. The battles had continued even after the Dark One was safely locked away in his new prison. And when peace did come, its price was terribly high. Only now, after two decades of living under the 'Empire', were people beginning to fight for their freedom. Granted, there were those select few nations that had declared their independence long ago—Cairhien and Illian—but those were special cases, and they had been isolated from the rest of the nations because of their refusal to bend knee to the White Tower. But now things were finally changing. Again the world was at war, though this time Rand could not be blamed for it. Not even the Seanchan could take credit for it. They had their own problems.

So determined were they to gain control over the Westlands, the Seanchan had forgotten their own lands. Embroiled in civil war, Seanchan was being torn asunder, though none seemed to care. Not even those of the Blood cared for their homeland. Instead, their interest was in gaining power for themselves. How quickly some adapted to the news that _sul'dam_ could channel. How quickly they nestled themselves in the bosom of the Aes Sedai in order to gain power. So many would trade their very souls to rise in the ranks. Why could they not understand that they were repeating the very same mistakes those who followed the Shadow had made? Why could they not see they were making a mockery of everything they all fought for…everything others had died for?

Sighing, Logain got up and began pacing. "There are times I wonder if this world is worth saving. Then I look at Doron." He stopped, turning to look at Rand. "Every time I look at him, I see her. He has her eyes…her fire. More importantly, he has her zest for life. No matter how bad things get, he always sees something salvageable about the situation. He's my son, but he resembles her in most ways. He's a good man, despite his penchant for trouble." He laughed softly. "I often wonder how much more trouble he would be now if she had…"

An intense silence fell between them as Logain trailed off. Rand knew what he was thinking. It was something he himself had considered on more than one occasion. What if he had been able to save Logain's wife? What if he'd been able to save… Burn it all, he wouldn't do this. Not again. He already knew there would have been casualties, and the thought of trading the life of one person he loved for another was not something that left him with a good feeling. It was too late to change the past, anyway. The future, however, was another story.

Maybe that was the advantage of having no prophecies. Without prophecy to serve as warning or promise, perhaps nothing was set in stone. Perhaps some problems and pains could be avoided. Rand was not fool enough to believe he could force the Pattern to his will—he had been rudely disabused of that notion long ago—but did he really have to sit idly by and allow events to unfold as others wished? Did he have to accept a certain future as a given until, and unless, the Wheel weaved it?

For so long he had believed his only option was to maintain a low profile. Stay out of the way and do what he could behind the scenes to indirectly affect the few areas where he had some modicum of influence. The realization that he had once again chosen the wrong path grated more than he wanted to admit. However, it was never too late to change your course; Ingtar had taught him that lesson well before the Last Battle had begun. The disquiet within him had spread from the center of his gut to his chest, nearly choking him, but as he got to his feet his new path clear as crystal to him, the anxiety eased a bit.

There was so much he had to do, so much time to make up for. His mind raced with a seemingly never-ending list of what had to be accomplished, some of which had been alluded to in his dreams and others he knew from his last use of the portal stones. The portal stones. A memory tickled the back of his mind, and soon that tickle became an insistent ache. The memory grew, sprung to life as though it had been dormant for some time, then gripped his heart with such ferocity that he nearly lost his breath. The knot within tightened again, the comprehension of the source of his unease suddenly crashing down upon him like a ton of stone.

"Rand, what is it?"

His head jerked at Logain's question, his forehead creasing with a frown. "We need to go. Now."

* * *

"Hey, Elnore, there's something over here you should…"

Elnore Mandragoran looked over at Arin, the boy Rand had asked her to escort on his search for some kind of hidden _ter'angreal_ stash in Old Tar Valon. At first she had believed Rand had just sent her along as a way to keep her from finding something more…interesting…to do for the day, but it took only a few minutes in Arin's presence to realize he needed someone to look after him.

It wasn't that he was incompetent—after all, he had only been channeling for a year and had already earned the silver sword pin that marked him as a Dedicated—but despite him being only a few years younger than she, he seemed to want someone to follow, even on such an easy mission. Part of it was likely due to the fact that his training was not complete. Most channelers exercised a bit of caution once they realized they had a lot to learn in order to avoid killing themselves with the One Power, after all. Well, Elnore herself hadn't, but Rand had always been of the opinion that she lacked a healthy level of fear. Arin didn't seem to suffer that problem, if it was, indeed, a problem. If anything, the boy needed to be a bit _less_ cautious. Perhaps that was why Rand had wanted her to accompany him…to get him to loosen up a bit. It wasn't healthy for someone so young to be so bloody uptight!

"…and this rock is strange looking…"

Unsuccessfully fighting a yawn, Elnore covered her mouth. Whatever the boy was blathering about was lost on her as she dug through a pile of stone to see if there was anything worthwhile underneath. To her, digging through rubble was fun. Going places she was not supposed to go—in this case, the bowels of the old White Tower—was _always_ fun. The only dark cloud hanging over this particular venture was Rand's all too specific order for her to stay out of the old White Tower ruins, but since she and Arin had found nothing in Old Tar Valon itself, cesspool that it was, she figured they may was well _try_ searching the tower itself. After all, what could it hurt? He had said the most important thing was to try to find any _ter'angreal_ or other One Power-forged objects that may be lying around, so clearly that overrode his order to stay out of the ruins. Right? The niggling guilt that threatened to ruin her logic caused her mouth to twist into a pained frown, but there was naught she could do about it now. She was already in the White Tower ruins and, if she was lucky, she would find something of use. Either way, she would tell him the truth about her decision to go into the ruins once she got back home. The decision had been logical, even if it was bordering on Aes Sedai logic. That thought made her shudder—if she started behaving like an Aes Sedai, she deserved to be smacked.

With another yawn, she kicked a large piece of rubble out of her way. Why Rand had been so adamant about her staying out of the ruins was beyond her, anyway. It wasn't as though she and Arin ran the risk of encountering someone or something that could cause trouble. Everyone else, the Aes Sedai included, was too afraid to enter the dilapidated buildings that once stood taller than any others in the world. Something about it not being safe or some such rot like that. People really had no sense of adventure.

"Elnore, are you even listening to me?" Arin said with a glare.

She glared back, only more fiercely. For her mother—Light, for most women—it seemed glaring was a fine art. Most of the time Elnore didn't care to get in glaring contests but sometimes it was useful. "Yes, I'm listening, but you need to get away from that"—she waved her hand at the huge yet damaged arch behind him—"thing. Mother told me about it once; it's some kind of _ter'angreal_ that sucks you into some alternate world or something. It sounded like _Tel'aran'rhiod_ to me. Stupid bloody Aes Sedai and their stupid traditions. You'd think Tarmon Gai'don would've taught them something. If it hadn't been for Rand…" She trailed off, raising an eyebrow when the boy started laughing at her. "What?"

"You. Sorry." He shook his head and leaned down to pick up a wheel-shaped piece of wood. Before she could ask about it, he dropped it into one of the bags they had brought and shook his head again. "Every time you talk about him, you get this look in your eyes. I mean, yeah, he saved all our skins and the world wouldn't be here were it not for him, but I swear the way you talk about him I wouldn't be surprised if he could walk on water."

"Of course he can, you woolhead." She rolled her eyes. "Anyone who channels can! All you have to do is a weave of—"

"All right, all right!" he interrupted, holding up his hands in defeat. "You missed the point, though."

"No I didn't." She fought to lift a particularly large piece of smooth stone, then dropped it to the side. "Your point was I think there's nothing he can't do and you're right. So could Father. They both say there's nothing you can't do if you put your mind to it."

He nodded. "The Light knows they taught you that lesson well. Too bad you don't actually follow their instructions." He raised his hands in defense again when she shot him a deadly look. "I was just saying! The Lord Dragon _did_ tell us not to come here, you know."

Rolling her eyes, she gave a slight shrug. The show of nonchalance conflicted greatly with the guilt that had returned in full force. She forced her tone to remain somewhat even; it wouldn't do to snap at the boy, not when it was herself she was angry with. "Yeah, well, he's weird about some stuff. Like where I go. Sometimes I think he forgets I'm not fourteen anymore." The corners of her lips curled up as she said the words, her anger forgotten. Sometimes she couldn't believe herself that she'd been living with Rand and Min for over seven years. Light, it was a third of her life! Had it not been for Rand, she'd most likely still be living in the flaming White Tower, having to deal with… Her jaw tightened and she refused to finish the thought. She owed Rand everything for rescuing her from that place, something her mother had refused to do.

A slight feeling of sadness came over her at the thought of her mother. It had been three weeks since she had seen Nynaeve. Much too long, even though the two of them would never see eye to eye on anything. She hated it, hated that she and her mother had never gotten along, hated that she had been forced to move away from home at such a young age. Away from her father.

Sighing, she moved her hand to the hilt of the sword at her side. At least she got to see him often. And the last time they had sparred, only days before, she had actually held her own against him until he had decided they had had enough. He had been proud, as had Rand. That memory was enough to lighten her mood.

"Thinking about that man of yours?" Again Arin interrupted her thoughts, wrongly, though this time she didn't much mind. "Why you're running around two days before you're to be married is beyond me. I'm surprised he isn't throwing a fit about it."

She chuckled, mainly because he _would _have thrown a fit if he knew. Then again, lately, most of the people in her life had been obsessed with keeping her locked in her rooms all the time. Even Mat, her partner in crime and one of her best friends in the world, had been acting strangely. "Yeah, well, everyone else seems to be handling the wedding plans fine without me. I'll worry about the wedding tomorrow. Right now I want to find this stash." Even as she said the words, she couldn't help glancing at the ring she wore on the third finger of her left hand. The gold signet ring would have been fairly bland had it not been for the black panther engraved on the top. Her thoughts drifted to the tall, dark-haired man who had given it to her and she let out a contented sigh. It had taken so long to win him over, but once she had he had been so devoted she could hardly believe it. The woman he had lost in Tarmon Gai'don, whoever she was, was now just a fond memory. Though the thought of her brought a smile to his face, he steadfastly refused to speak of her.

"Hey Arin, why don't you…" Her words were cut short by a sudden quake in the earth. It took a great deal of effort to keep her feet, but when she turned her eyes to the boy, she practically growled. Judging by the look of terror in his eyes, he was either too afraid to move or was stuck. Above him the arch—which was now glowing an odd reddish-black color—began to crumble. Blood and ashes, she had told him to get away from the bleeding thing!

Without thought, she stumbled to him and pulled him away. Well, she tried to. He really was stuck! Moving behind him, trying her best not to step inside the archway, she pushed, but he still didn't budge.

"Elnore, I can't move and—"

"Be quiet!" she ordered, channeling flows of Air at him, realizing too late that the flows were too thick and strong to be using at such a close distance to him.

"Elnore!"

This time it was Rand yelling at her, she knew that before she ever glanced up to see him running toward her and Arin. Unfortunately, by then it was too late. Her strong flows of Air had worked in a sense—the boy was knocked away from the arch—but the force of her flows propelled her in the opposite direction. Right into the glowing arch. The last thing she saw, as time slowed to a crawl and she flew backwards into the awaiting darkness, was Rand's face. Strangely, his eyes were filled with defeat, though for the life of her she couldn't quite figure out why.

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	2. Chapter 1 The Winds of Change

_**Chapter 1**_

_**The Winds of Change**_

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The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass leaving memories that become legend, then fade to myth, and are long forgot when that Age comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the dead land of Malkier. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was _a_ beginning.

Born among ruins of the Seven Towers where the stench of death lay heavy in the air, the hot wind blew across the black, muck-filled waters of the Thousand Lakes, a tainted necklace of lakes twisted by the touch of the Dark One. The wind never paused in its journey, not when it passed over the now unguarded Blightborder, and not when it surged through Shienar and melted the menacing shards of ice that hung from every tree it touched. Though spring was nearing, no Shienaran who felt the wind's warmth believed it to be a sign of the coming season. This close to the Great Blight, people were accustomed to experiencing the unnatural and unwelcome heat of the winds born of Shayol Ghul itself. They recognized the promise in the wind, and that promise had naught to do with spring.

West and south the wind blew for leagues, gusting ferociously through the land, dividing but never easing. Through Tar Valon it traveled, its sickly sweet scent of corruption still as strong as the wind itself. Angrily, it whipped across the grounds surrounding the great white spire called the White Tower, though none seemed to notice. Too entangled by their own interests, the Aes Sedai and the people of the city dismissed the unusually hot wind and its unpleasant odor as insignificant.

South it howled, picking up momentum as it swept over hills and plains. Even the Erinin River rippled violently from its touch, causing any boat in its depths to rock as though it were caught in a tempest. Turning ever so slightly, it ripped through the city of Aringill, leaving behind a whirl of dust on one of the stone-paved main streets before changing its course to the river once again.

Along the river it blasted, its stench slowly fading though its warmth never did. Only when it reached the great city of Tear, a city under siege by its own nobles, did the wind slow. East, until the wind's howl became a moan, until it swept over the grounds of the Pendaloan Estate. Only the banner of House Pendaloan flew above the manor proper, but inside was someone far more important to the Pattern's workings than any noble had ever been. Inside, was a _ta'veren_. Inside, was the Dragon Reborn.

Tired of pacing his rooms, Rand settled into a chair and sighed, barely noticing the soft, warm gust of air that drifted through the window. Such a slight breeze did little to warm the cold room, though Rand, for the briefest of moments, was wrapped in its embrace. The chill he'd learned to ignore disappeared, yet his mind was too absorbed in thoughts of his problems to acknowledge it.

The sun had not yet broken the horizon and though he was exhausted, sleep was not within his reach. As much as he needed the rest, sleep was a luxury he could ill afford on the best of days, but now…well, he was too worried to sleep. Too worried to do much of anything except pace. How could he do otherwise when Min was not at his side? Selfish as it was, he needed her. It was weakness, he knew—she would be safer away from him—but he could not stop himself. He could not resist the urge to keep her with him as much as possible. His thoughts drifted to the reason she was gone, his teeth clenching so hard he was surprised they didn't crack from the pressure.

Min and Nynaeve had left the Pendaloan estate with Cadsuane five days earlier, when the sky was still black as pitch. The old woman had given no explanation for their departure, much less any idea of when they would return. When he had demanded, somewhat aggressively, that she tell him the reason for her departure and why she needed Min and Nynaeve to accompany her, she had merely slapped him, informing him he still had no manners.

It had taken the very last of his control not to slap her back. Lews Therin had been screaming in his mind for the old woman's death, though he was too cowardly to suggest Rand do it himself. No, he wished Alivia to do the honors, knowing the Seanchan woman would do anything Rand asked of her. Rand had almost agreed with the madman. Were it not for Min's vision, and the fact that he needed to learn something from Cadsuane so he could win Tarmon Gai'don, he would have sent the woman away long ago. Her presence grated, as did her ever-growing list of rules. The rules themselves, for the most part, were not unreasonable, but the fact that he was forced to follow them—to accept _punishment_ from the woman whenever she saw fit to dole it out—was too much for him to bear at times.

Recently he had been forced to issue a rule of his own. After witnessing Cadsuane making veiled threats to Min, Rand had told the old woman, in no uncertain terms, that if she ever repeated that act—if she ever did anything to put Min in harm's way or even _threatened_ to do so—she would find out exactly how bad of a temper he truly possessed. Min had gotten into a snit over it, claiming she neither wanted nor needed his protection, but he did not rescind the threat. He might have to put up with the old woman's hypocritical attitude, have to swallow his anger every time she decided to slap him, but he would not allow her to lay a hand on Min.

Now that he thought about it, he wished he had also told the woman that she was not allowed to drag Min away from him for any reason. Had he done that, Min would be with him right now. Where she belonged. He winced at that thought; if he had any strength at all, he would have sent her away for her own safety. But he needed her. And he was too weak to be without her.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. His desire for Min's presence was not the only reason this sudden journey of Cadsuane's annoyed him. There was too much to do for Cadsuane to be traipsing around the countryside on some unknown errand! He needed her there, needed Min there. Light, he even needed Nynaeve's presence. True allies were scarce, and it seemed enemies came from every direction…the Seanchan, the Borderlander army, the Forsaken, Taim. Cursing under his breath at his own weakness—the Dragon Reborn did not need anyone, _should_ not need anyone—he closed his eyes and reached for the True Source.

Immediately, he was hit with an avalanche of fire and ice, as well as the sickness that always enveloped him of late every time he touched _saidin_. For a moment, a face danced before his vision, the face of the man he had encountered in Shadar Logoth so long ago. The man looked furious, and as near to sicking up as Rand himself. He was so close, and completely aware of Rand. Move one hair in any direction and they would touch. Just a hair. Rand kept himself steady.

He embraced the pain of the sickness, just as he embraced the pain that pulsed through him with every breath he took. The wounds in his side throbbed as always, and the throbbing only intensified when he held the One Power. Still, for this he had to be harder than stone, harder than steel. Through the pain he would find the strength he needed. Through the pain he would find the will to live the short time he had left.

_We must die! You promised we would! I cannot stand this prison anymore!_

Ignoring Lews Therin's ranting and sobbing, Rand unsheathed his sword and began to move in the forms of the sword Lan taught him a long time ago in Shienar. One into the other, smoothly flowing into the deadly dance. Faster and faster his hands moved in front of him, behind him, and to his side with no hesitation. Striking, slashing, at the ever-present enemies he had to destroy. The enemies would come whether Min, Nynaeve, and Cadsuane were there or not. He had to be prepared, and what's more, no matter when they returned, he could not hold off on his plans. Time was running out.

"Alivia!" he yelled, spinning toward the door and dropping _saidin_ as though it had burned him. As soon as she stuck her head inside, he ordered her to find Lan. He needed to practice, and Lan was the one man who could give him the intense session of sparring he required. After that, he would be ready to make his next move against the Shadow.

* * *

Elnore awoke with a start to find herself lying against a tree in the middle of a thick, wooded area. Rubbing her head, she eased into a sitting position, trying to figure out where she was and how she had gotten there. It came back slowly, how she had been helping the boy search the bowels of what was left of the White Tower ruins, the earth tremble that had somehow activated those bloody arches and started pulling the boy into them. She had freed him, though, right?

A few moments of focusing answered the question. She _had_ saved him, but she had been pulled through one of the arches in the process. Light, the things weren't even supposed to be functioning! Rand had told her—Rand! Just as she had been knocked into the arch, he had shown up, yelling her name. How had he even known she was there?

"Focus, Elnore," she muttered to herself. "One thing at a time." Now was not the time to worry about anything other than where she was and how to get home.

Making a disgusted noise, she tugged a small chunk of the archway out of her hair. If she really was in the archway, then wasn't it supposed to appear again? She remembered her mother telling her stories about her own trip through the arches, and how she'd had to make the arches appear by envisioning them. It had sounded an awful lot like _Tel'aran'rhiod_ to Elnore, but who was she to question it? So, taking a deep breath, she brought the image of the arch to her mind, and sure enough the arch appeared. At least something was going right for her today!

Without hesitation, she hurried toward the arch, only to be abruptly knocked backward. "What the flaming…?" she growled, trying to unsuccessfully put her hand through the arch. "Let…me…through!" Rearing back her fist, she punched the invisible wall that kept her from entering the arch, then yelped in pain when she heard a bone in her hand crack. Light, that hurt!

"Son of a goat-kissing trollop!" she yelled in a fit of anger, channeling flows of Earth and Fire at a nearby tree. The tree splintered and burst just as it was swallowed by the crater her flows had created, and though the show of temper made her feel somewhat calmer, it had solved nothing. She was still stuck in this bloody place.

Her thoughts drifted and she found herself wishing she was in her rooms at the Sun Palace. The scenery around her shifted immediately, and she was suddenly exactly where she wished to be. Her eyes widened when she realized what that meant…she _was_ in _Tel'aran'rhiod_. To prove her theory, she caused the world around her to shift to her homeland…to Malkier. The Seven Towers had a misty look about them, as though they would disappear if she released her stranglehold on the scenery, but she thought nothing of it; sometimes things appeared different in the World of Dreams. Shaking her head, she let her gaze scan the surrounding area. Even the Thousand Lakes appeared strange, yet she refused to dwell on it. Well, now that she knew where she was, she could leave. But how had she ended up in _Tel'aran'rhiod_? In the flesh, no less? Why would the bloody Aes Sedai create arches that sent you to _Tel'aran'rhiod_? How did the things even function when they were said to be broken? There was only one person who could answer that question—Rand.

Grasping _saidar_, she opened a gateway to her rooms at the Sun Palace intent on going to find Rand, but when she stepped through, she froze. There was a flaming man in her bed! A man she did not know!

She glared at him for a moment, completely dumbfounded as to what he was doing there. "Who in the name of the Creator are you? And why are you in my bed?"

The square-faced man raised a mostly gray eyebrow at her, looking somewhat amused. "This is my bed, girl, though I would not mind sharing it with you. As for what I'm doing, before you so rudely barged in, I was sleeping." He pushed himself up so he was sitting on the bed, though it apparently took a great deal of effort. The man was clearly hurt, or sick, but she didn't miss the fact that his gaze was searching the room for something. Finally, when he saw the sword in the corner of the room, he stopped searching.

"You don't need a bloody sword," she promised, letting out an aggravated breath. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know what you're doing in my bloody bed."

Of course the wool-headed man didn't listen to her and instead proceeded to get to his feet. She closed the distance between them, gently pushing him back onto the bed. Had he been in perfect health, she had no doubt she would not have been able to push him anywhere—the man was as solid as stone.

As she helped him under the covers, her eyes darted nervously around the room. Something was not right—this was her room, but nothing was the way it should be. The decorations were drastically different, and none of her personal things remained in the room. Even the bloody floor was different, a cold white marble instead of the thick plush red carpeting that should have been there. Blood and bloody ashes, what was going on?

"Are you all right?" The man's deep voice brought her attention back to him. "You don't look well."

_With good reason,_ she thought. Rubbing her head with both hands, she let out a long breath. "I need Rand, he'll know how to…fix this. Whatever it is." She met the man's gaze with her own. "Who are you?"

"Dobraine," he answered pensively. "Lord Dobraine of House Taborwin."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Elnore's legs buckled under her and she found herself on the floor. She knew the name all too well. Rand had told her stories of Dobraine's honor and loyalty. He was the only nobleman in Cairhien Rand had trusted. But Dobraine had died during Tarmon Gai'don, so what was he doing in her room?

"It's okay," he comforted. "Just calm yourself…" Somehow the man managed to overcome his own weakness enough to help her off the floor onto the edge of the bed. The feel of his hands on her shoulders made her aware of how badly she was trembling. When he pulled her head to his shoulder, she didn't resist. In fact, she almost gave in to the sudden urge to wrap her arms around this stranger and hold on for dear life. She would have welcomed anything that would rid her of the overwhelming confusion she felt.

"What's your name?" he asked her softly. "At first I thought you were Aes Sedai, but you aren't, are you?"

"No." Shaking her head, she pushed away from him and forced a small smile. "My name is Elnore. I'm sorry, Dobraine, for…I think I'm lost." That was a bloody understatement. "I need Rand. He's the only one who can make sense of this. Of why…"

"Why you think this bed is yours instead of mine?" He said the words in jest, and it was enough to get a semblance of a smile from her. Apparently that was exactly the reaction he wanted. "That's better. The Lord Dragon is in Tear, Lady Elnore."

Her eyes narrowed. "Tear? Why? And where? The Stone?" When he opened his mouth to answer, she interrupted. "No, don't worry I can find him." Tugging on the leather cord that hung around her neck, she took a shaky breath. The three small pendants clanked against each other before bouncing off the locket her father gave her when she was younger. The noise was oddly comforting. As her fingers fumbled for the one she was looking for, the small dragon pendant Rand had given her when she was a little girl, she gave the man a serious look. "I'll have Rand send some Asha'man to protect you, Dobraine. You need full time protection in the room with you. Till then, be careful, okay?"

Cupping the dragon pendant in the palm of her hand, she grasped _saidar_ and began the complex weave of Earth and Spirit that would give her Rand's exact location. If anyone could tell her what was going on, it was him.

* * *

"Hold her nose and pour it down her throat, child."

Zora Inellan nodded as she stared at the girl on the floor. It was bad enough the girl was completely bare and bound in chains, why did she need to be drugged as well? She glanced at the tiny cup of liquid in her hand, wondering exactly what the drug would do to the girl. Zora had no desire to kill anyone, no matter how incredible the pay.

"If you cannot handle this task, we can put you back on the street where we found you," the woman behind her threatened. No, not a woman, an Aes Sedai. Anyone with sense did not quarrel with an Aes Sedai. Anyone with sense followed Aes Sedai's orders. And Zora had sense. Then again, if she had had much sense, she wouldn't be in this position. "It is your choice, child. Do as I say and you can continue to be provided food and shelter. Otherwise, you can leave. This task is not a difficult one. And the liquid will not harm her permanently."

"I will do as you wish," Zora promised, determined to do whatever it took to survive. When the other women found her several weeks earlier, she had been near death. They healed her, fed her, clothed her, and gave her a warm place to sleep. "It's only…" She looked back to the groaning girl on the floor.

"She is a criminal," the Aes Sedai told her matter-of-factly. "And she can channel. That liquid I gave you to dose her with will stop her from doing so. However, should you neglect your duties and give in to the pity you feel for her, she _will_ channel again, and I guarantee she will take her displeasure out on you. She is a very unpleasant girl who has no qualms about using her power against anyone who opposes her." The Aes Sedai shrugged nonchalantly. "There will be guards outside the cell, but this one could destroy your mind, making you her slave, before you or anyone else knows it."

Zora swallowed hard, her eyes drifting to the medicine the Aes Sedai had brought her. "Are you certain that is enough? Shouldn't I dose her more often? What if she starts to wake up? Can I—"

"Should she wake up, you may knock her out with your fist." The Aes Sedai looked quite pleased with the idea. "Or a rock. It makes no difference to me. Just knock her out and dose her again. But I am certain that won't be necessary if you dose her once an hour. You needn't worry, child. She will soon be dealt with. After what we have planned, she will no longer be a problem for anyone. Instead, she will spend her life serving penance for her crimes." A cruel smile appeared on the Aes Sedai's face. "And I, for one, will enjoy witnessing it."

* * *

Rand wiped the sweat from his brow and sheathed his sword, shaking his head at Lan. "I've bested three men at once…sword masters, no less…but I still can't best you."

"You've come a long way, sheepherder." The older man smiled slightly, showing no signs of weariness at all. In fact, he hadn't even broken a sweat. "It might have been less challenging had we practiced in the courtyard. However large your rooms, they are not conducive to fighting. Attempting to do battle while trying to avoid smashing furniture is not an easy task."

Sinking into a chair, Rand sighed. "The last thing I needed was an audience. Any time you venture to the courtyard for practice, everyone at the estate gathers. Imagine what a nightmare it would be if we _both_ were out there."

"My wife, for one, would tug that braid right off of her head if she knew we were practicing together," Lan chuckled. His good humor disappeared as quickly as it came, however. That he even smiled without having Nynaeve nearby was a miracle. "Cadsuane gave you no idea when she, Nynaeve, and Min would be back?"

"No, she didn't even tell me what they were doing, much less where they were going." Rand poured the Warder a cup of mulled wine, then poured himself one as well. "She took none of her regular cohorts. Word has it Corele is even angry about that."

"Corele's moods do not concern me," Lan practically growled. That he had failed to add the customary 'Sedai' at the end of the Aes Sedai's name did not go unnoticed by Rand, but he never offered to correct the man. "Cadsuane has not spoken a word to Nynaeve since she helped you Heal _saidin_, yet all of a sudden she needs Nynaeve to go somewhere with her?" The Warder's jaw twitched. "I do not like it. The woman has been insufferable to my wife, insulting and demeaning. Nynaeve merely accepts it. For _you_, sheepherder."

"I know, Lan," Rand told him calmly, "and I appreciate Nynaeve's support. Whatever this errand is, Cadsuane was insistent on having Nynaeve and Min accompany her. She didn't exactly give anyone the option of questioning it."

"The least she could have done is to tell us when they would return."

Rand nodded his agreement. "Of all the times for her to decide to take off, now is the worst. This meeting with the Daughter of the Nine Moons needs to be arranged. The sooner I deal with the Seanchan the better."

"I would be more cautious than usual with those people." Lan let out a long breath, as if he were considering his words. "From what I understand of it, the Seanchan believe the key to defeating the Shadow lies in them controlling you."

"That is their misfortune." Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Rand wrapped himself in the Void. The days of him dancing on someone else's strings were gone. He would be no one's puppet. "I need peace with them, but I will not gain that peace by sacrificing my own freedom." Never that. Neither the Seanchan nor the Aes Sedai would take his freedom again. _Must stay out of the box!_ Though Lews Therin's piteous cries were not welcome, Rand agreed. Even now, when he thought of the box he could hardly breathe. Never again. Focusing his thoughts back on the matter at hand, he spoke in an emotionless tone. "There has to be another way. I don't intend to be controlled by anyone again. After the Aes Sedai—"

He abruptly stopped his flow words when he felt the chilling sensation that announced _saidar_ was being channeled and saw the flash of light across the room. He grasped _saidin_ without thought, ready to destroy the intruder who dared to open a gateway into his chambers unannounced. Lan was at his side, sword out and ready, but when the two of them saw who was stepping through the gateway, they both relaxed. Still, Rand glared at the woman. She should have known better! "Nynaeve! What are you doing? Where are Cadsuane and Min?" He let out an annoyed grunt when the gateway closed behind her. "And what do you mean opening a gateway to—"

The woman spun toward the door just as Alivia burst into the room demanding to know who had channeled so much _saidar_. At least, that was what it seemed she had planned to ask. Before the former _damane_ finished her sentence, however, she erupted into a fit of anger and lunged at Nynaeve, only to end up lying on the floor—screaming in pain.

"Don't ever think to attack me again," Nynaeve announced matter-of-factly. Rand opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but promptly closed it when Nynaeve shrugged nonchalantly and Alivia was suddenly brought to her feet, her arms and legs pinned tightly next to her body. "Now if you're a good girl, I'll remove the shield when I'm done here…otherwise, good luck finding someone to free you."

Rand's eyes widened when Alivia suddenly flew back through the doorway and the door slammed in her face. What had Nynaeve done to her? And how? From what Rand had heard from other's discussions, Alivia was not only stronger in the One Power than Nynaeve but better at battle as well!

She turned back toward him, shaking her head. "Rand, who in the name of the Creator was that woman? And why did she try to attack me?" Her eyes drifted to Lan. "Father, what—"

By the time Rand registered what Nynaeve—no, just a girl who looked like Nynaeve—had called Lan, the Warder already had his sword at the girl's throat. A closer look at her made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. While she looked enough like Nynaeve to pass for her twin, there were differences he should have noticed as soon as he laid eyes on her. For one thing, rather than being tied tightly in a braid, the girl's thick black curls cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. Now that he looked closer, he realized her hair was much darker than Nynaeve's as well.

Another obvious difference was the color of her eyes. Where Nynaeve's were brown, this girl's were icy blue…like Lan's. Hers, however, lacked the hardness the Warder's eyes held, and were instead filled with emotion and mischief. There was a youthfulness about her, an innocence, that did not seem to belong on a face that looked so like Nynaeve's. And then there was her style of dress. As Rand took in the sight of her, the tight black leather breeches that clung to every curve and the strange low-cut leather bodice that appeared to button in the front, he felt his cheeks redden. Nynaeve would never have been caught wearing something so revealing. Light, no woman in the Westlands would, with perhaps the exception of Min!

Deciding it best to focus on something other than her state of dress, Rand's gaze drifted to Lan for a moment as he replayed her entrance in his mind. She had called Lan 'father'. Was it possible the Warder had a child from another woman? Even if that were true, he didn't seem to know the girl, and it made no sense that she would look like Nynaeve. No sense at all.

"Who are you, and what do you want, woman?" Lan growled, pressing the point of his sword to her throat in warning.

The girl looked as if she had been kicked, and it took her a moment to choke out, "You don't know me, do you? Neither one of you?" When neither man answered, she spoke quietly, her voice trembling. She was clearly fighting the urge to cry, and instinct told Rand it was not an act. Oddly, he felt a pang of sympathy for her until she spoke again. "My name is Elnore…Elnore Mandragoran."

* * *

"…and then the arches just fell down…they crumbled to dust! I've never seen anything like it."

Adelorna Bastine, Captain-General of the Green Ajah, gave Rina Hafden a slightly sympathetic look as she half-heartedly listened to the story of the hour, how during an earth tremble, the _ter'angreal_ arches used to test novices had disintegrated into a pile of dust. Sadly, a novice had been inside the arches at the time of the tremor, and now that the arches were gone, the girl would not be coming back. Adelorna had already heard the story once, just after it happened, and though the news was upsetting, the arches were the least of her worries.

No, the problem plaguing her, plaguing them all, really, had nothing to do with the arches and everything to do with the Amyrlin. A week earlier Adelorna had received word that Elaida had refused a suggestion to meet and negotiate with the rebel Aes Sedai in an effort to make the Tower whole again. Instead, the Amyrlin insisted the Blue Ajah would remain defunct, and expected all of the rebels to beg her forgiveness. The woman was more interested in making sisters grovel than she was in repairing what had been broken. It was absurd! Her foolish pride would force a war between Aes Sedai on Tower grounds. Granted, the Tower had just as many soldiers as the Rebels, but Aes Sedai should not battle one another! Especially given what they would all soon face.

The time for war was quickly approaching—Adelorna could feel it—and preparations had to be made. Since the Amyrlin was too obtuse and arrogant to see it, others would have to take the initiative. In fact, they already had.

For over a month, the Ajah heads had been meeting alone to discuss the future of the White Tower. If Elaida ever learned of it, she would explode with rage. Still, there was too much that had to be done to waste any more time—foremost on the list was deciding how to deal with the Seanchan, guiding and readying the al'Thor boy to fight the Dark One, preparing for Tarmon Gai'don, and finding a way to reasonably handle the Asha'man. They did not have time to cater to Elaida's ego any longer. The Red Amyrlin had been a disaster from the start—even before she had donned the seven-striped stole—and if the Ajah Heads had asserted their control over the Sitters sooner, things would have progressed much differently.

At times Adelorna wished she had followed the rebels, but she had chosen to stay because she pledged her life to the Tower. The Tower, not one particular Amyrlin. Besides, at the time of the split she did not know enough to make an informed decision on what was best for the Tower. At the time, the Sitters still acted on their own rather than at the direction of the Ajah Heads. So Adelorna sat in silence while chaos ruled, doing what she could to mitigate the damage from behind the scenes. She felt for Siuan and believed that, unlike the current Amyrlin, the woman actually had the Tower's best interests at heart despite her bungling of the situation with the boy. Regardless, Siuan had broken the rules, and no matter how wrong Elaida's actions, running away and breaking the Tower was no solution. Only cowards ran when things became difficult, even in overwhelming odds. And, given how the rebels had bungled things, it was glaringly obvious that they were just as incompetent and foolish as Elaida.

Why else would they choose a mere child for Amyrlin? Certainly they planned to use the girl as a puppet—and a scapegoat, should their plans fail—but according to reliable sources, the fools could not even control the child! The girl was now as power mad as Elaida herself, forcing sisters to swear fealty to her and making plans to bring an army—an army!—on Tower grounds to…to do what? No doubt more Aes Sedai and Warder blood would be spilled, and for all anyone knew, the girl intended to conquer everyone in the Tower and make them kneel to her. That could not happen. It _would_ not.

Thinking of the mess the rebels had made, Adelorna knew she was right to stay at the Tower. She had been fighting Elaida's machinations from the first day. In her own way, of course. When Elaida and her followers began setting Ajah against Ajah, Adelorna made alliances. The other Ajah Heads had also had enough of the Red Amyrlin, and it was easy to convince them the woman should be ousted. It seemed she was not the only one to learn of Elaida's mishandling of Tower business.

Thanks to Adelorna's personal network of eyes and ears, as well as a few chatty Aes Sedai not on Tower grounds, she had learned of two of Elaida's worst blunders, blunders the woman believed to be hidden. The rest she had learned from the other Ajah Heads, who had their own sources of information. With all the Amyrlin had done she, at the very least, would be exiled. It was much more likely she would be stilled. Truly, she deserved no less for the mess she had made.

For the longest time, Adelorna was not certain how best to use the information, much less _when_ to use it. She and the other Ajah heads thought it best to wait until the Tower was whole again before ousting the Amyrlin—after all, a change of leadership in the midst of a rebellion could cause more problems than keeping a bad leader in place—but Elaida's decisions of late had made the choice easier. So, four days earlier, she had taken the first step to finally rid the Tower of its pathetic excuse of an Amyrlin.

***

_Flanked by two of her Warders, Rahnar and Kylan, Adelorna strode through the streets of Tar Valon, the hood of her cloak covering her face. The city had become a wretched place, full of violent criminals, and her insistence on going there had annoyed her Warders. It could not be helped, however. She had to see to this herself._

"_This way," Rahnar said, ushering her down an alleyway to where a man was waiting. "Adelorna Sedai, this is Shad Norr."_

_Adelorna nodded primly at the man, not believing for a moment that he had shared his true name. It mattered not, she supposed. Whoever he was, he was tall—so tall he towered over her even more than her Warders did—and very well muscled. She had no doubt he could wield the sword hanging from his belt. When she had told Rahnar to find her a courier, she explicitly stated she wanted a man who was able to take care of himself. It appeared her Warder had done well. He always did. _

_Pulling a sack of gold coins from her cloak, she held it out to the courier and gave him a stern look. Rahnar had already given the man all the details of his assignment, but Adelorna had a few things to add. "Buy the fastest horse you can find. Ride it to exhaustion and trade it for another. However fast you thought you could reach your destination, I want you there faster."_

_The man did not look daunted, and though she was tempted to teach him a lesson about showing respect to Aes Sedai she could not afford to estrange him. Not now. This task was much too important. "Where's the letter?" he asked blandly, stuffing the bag into his cloak._

_Adelorna nodded at Kylan, who took the letter from his cloak and handed it to the man. "Protect that with your life, and see that no one but the intended recipient touches it."_

"_Consider it done, Aes Sedai." With a quick bow, he was gone._

***

That had been four days ago, and Adelorna was beginning to grow impatient. If something had happened to the man or if her note had been intercepted…she forced the thought away. Rahnar would never have chosen Norr if he doubted the man's abilities to get the job done. With some effort, she forced her attention back to the conversation.

"What of the child who was being tested?" Ferane was asking calmly, smoothing the thick white shawl draped over her shoulders. "Was there no sign of her?"

Rina shook her head sadly. "No doubt, she is dead now. If one gets lost in the arches, she dies."

"I would not be too certain of that," Jesse told her. "We do not know enough of how the arches work to determine the fate of someone trapped inside. It is possible she is merely trapped in an alternate world. The arches work similarly to the Portal Stones, I believe. I have studied the Portal Stones for a great many years and it seems to me that—"

"The matter is unlikely to ever be settled now," Ferane interjected. "I would, however, like to know what caused the arches to crumble. The earth tremble was not nearly strong enough to destroy those stone archways."

Adelorna opened her mouth to agree, but stopped when she saw her eldest Warder, Rahnar, crossing the courtyard toward her. Tension was flowing from him through the bond to her, and perhaps a bit of concern. She needed to speak with him, to learn if he had received word from Norr or not. Giving Ferane a meaningful look, Adelorna took a deep breath. Further discussion regarding the arches would have to wait. If things had gone as planned, the Ajah Heads would be leaving the Tower for the night.

"Well," Barasine, one of the Reds began in a pompous voice, "until we find a way to repair the arches we cannot raise any novices to Accepted."

Adelorna gave the woman an exasperated look. "Since no one in the Tower knows how to make _ter'angreal_, that doesn't appear to be an option, now does it? There will have to be an official announcement on this, I'm sure, but we cannot very well stop raising girls from novice simply because the arches no longer function." Before the woman could argue, she continued, "Unfortunately nothing is likely to be settled now, so I suggest we all return to our duties. I, for one, have much to do today."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and made her way to Rahnar. As soon as she reached him, he guided her farther from the others. "The Tremalking Splice," Rahnar whispered to her. "There is a small room in the back…he will be there at sundown."

Though her mask of calm never wavered, she felt some amount of satisfaction despite the frown creasing her Warder's brow. "I have to get word to the others, Rahnar. We need to go there early to prepare."

He nodded, letting out a long breath. "I do not like this, Adelorna. I do not like it at all."

"I know, but there is no choice." She touched his face gently, hoping to comfort him. "We have wasted enough time waiting for things to right themselves. It is time to take action."


	3. Chapter 2 Tossing the Dice

_**Chapter 2**_

_**Tossing the Dice**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

Rand stood frozen in place, dumbfounded, as he tried to make sense of the girl's words. His mind was in a whirl… Elnore Mandragoran? That meant somehow this girl—woman?—was related to Lan. His daughter by another woman perhaps? Lan was a lot older than Nynaeve and could have had a child he never mentioned, possibly one he had never been aware of, but how did that explain the girl's face being a near mirror image to that of the only Aes Sedai he really trusted?

"Elnore Mandragoran," Lan repeated coldly, still holding the point of his sword to the girl's throat. Elnore. The name sounded so familiar, like… Light! That had been Nynaeve's mother's name! Rand had been fairly young when Mistress al'Meara had died and only vaguely remembered her, but Nynaeve had spoken of her often. As had Tam. "Do you have any idea who I am, girl? Try again. And this time, your words had best be true. This is the last chance I plan to give you. Who are you and what do you want?"

"I told you my name," she said crossly, her mouth set in a near pout as she glared at Lan with unshed tears filling her eyes. She looked so young, younger than even Egwene had the last he saw her, which he supposed could be attributed to the slowing. It was her eyes that made him certain she was at least half a dozen years younger than him, though. They held such innocence. Trust. _Only a fool trusts. _Whether that thought was his own or Lews Therin's, he was not certain.

"You are not—"

"It's not my flaming fault you don't like the answer," she interrupted before Lan could finish his accusation. Her features were set in a stony scowl, oddly mirroring Lan's expression. "And yes, I know full well who you are, al'Lan Mandragoran, King of Malkier. My father. As for what I want…" She let out a mirthless laugh, and Rand couldn't ignore the pang of sympathy he felt for her. "I want the people I know and love to recognize me, instead of having my father threatening to kill me while my mentor stares at me like I'm a bloody Trolloc! But most of all, I want a nice strong drink." Mentor? Rand bit back a cough. She was not the only one who could use a drink, and wine punch was not nearly strong enough as far as Rand was concerned.

Lan still had not moved the sword away from her. "Either you are insane or you are trying to trick us. Either way, this will not end well for you."

"Then stick the bloody sword through me!" Wrapping one hand around the blade she took a small step closer, close enough to pierce the delicate skin at the hollow of her neck. She never flinched, not even when blood trickled down her chest. "Go ahead and do it! The only explanation is that I'm in the middle of some bloody nightmare, and if the only flaming thing that will end it is having you kill me then so be it!"

The tension in the room was so intense it threatened to take Rand's breath, and for a moment it appeared Lan intended to do just as the girl asked. Something in the girl's eyes, however, made Rand hold a hand out to stop the Warder from doing anything rash. She was desperate enough—upset enough—to stand there and let Lan skewer her. Rand couldn't watch that. He couldn't allow it. After all, this was one Aes Sedai. No, not an Aes Sedai, but a girl who could channel. Alone, he could handle her. And just maybe he could find out what in the name of the Light was going on here.

"Put the sword away, Lan," Rand ordered quietly, his eyes not leaving the girl…Elnore. Lan paused only a moment before putting the sword back into its scabbard, though he did so with more force than was necessary. "Elnore, I will not shield you as long as you release _saidar_ and do not reach for it again until I tell you otherwise."

She nodded, her eyes filled with angry dejection. The waves of emotion coming from her were palpable, as well as conflicting. He wondered if maybe she was using some trick with the One Power to make him feel her emotions, but he didn't believe it to be possible. The part that puzzled him the most was that he sensed no fear from her. Anyone with any sense would have _some_ fear, wouldn't they? "If another of those bleeding Aes Sedai comes in here and—"

"They won't," he promised, wondering why she seemed to loathe the Aes Sedai so much. He then went to the door and gave Elza—and a very distraught Alivia—strict orders not to allow anyone to enter under any circumstances. Turning back to Elnore, he said, "No one will interrupt us, and you will not be shielded unless you try to channel." He gestured toward one of the plush chairs and waited for her to make herself more comfortable before settling in the chair across from her. Lan refused a seat, choosing instead to loom over the girl. Rand drew in a deep breath, wrapping himself in the Void. It did nothing to quell the rage of _saidin_, nor the sickness it brought him, but it helped nonetheless. Until he was certain of this girl's story, he could not afford to release the True Source. He could not afford to let down his guard. "You understand I have questions for you, such as how you knew I was here…in this room."

"I used the location weave to find you," she answered with an irritated twist of her mouth, as though she considered him dense. "And when—"

"Location weave?" The words felt foreign on his tongue. "What is this 'location' weave?"

"_You're_ the one who taught it to _me_, Rand." Though she was clearly trying to hide her agitation, she did a poor job of it. It almost made him chuckle; this girl was definitely no Aes Sedai. None he had met thus far had been so inept at remaining calm, or at least feigning it. "I know it was a relatively new weave, but you said you learned it before Tarmon Gai'don and since Dobraine is still alive, I figured…" Trailing off, she gave him a sheepish look, and though he was tempted to ask about Dobraine she did not give him the chance. "Sorry, I tend to veer off subject sometimes. It's a bad habit. Basically, the weave does exactly what its name implies—it locates people." Her nose wrinkled. "Well, it's not really that simple."

He raised an eyebrow. "Try to explain it."

Bouncing her knee impatiently, she nodded. "First, you have to have something that's connected to the person you're trying to locate. An object that's been bonded to them. To their thread in the Pattern." She must have been able to tell by the look on his face that he had no clue what she was talking about because she frowned and continued, "It's kind of like a Warder bond, only it's a lot more complex and connects a person to an object rather than another person. As long as the person is alive, then you can use the object—with the location weave—to find the person. And it's exact, so exact that you can open a gateway right to them. Well, that's how it works most of the time."

The way she described it made him think of the coins Moiraine had given him, Mat, and Perrin long ago. Perhaps it was a similar weave? Rand considered her words before responding; if this location weave were real, it could prove to be very useful. "What of mine did you use to find me?"

Tugging on the leather cord that hung around her neck, she pulled three small pendants—and what appeared to be an aged gold locket—from the valley between her breasts. She held up one of the pendants, a shiny black circle with a raised red dragon that looked to be a duplicate of the mark on his arm. "This. You gave—"

"Where did you get this?" Lan growled, grabbing the aged locket that swung from the leather cord.

Though his question, and probably his tone, made her recoil as if she'd been struck, she managed to answer. "From you, Fath—" Dropping her eyes, she stopped. "You gave it to me."

Lan eyed her, a muscle twitching in his jaw, then jerked his hand away from the locket. "I'll be back." With that, he spun on his heel and stalked out the door.

"And the pendant," Rand began once he heard the door click closed behind the Warder, "I gave that to you? May I see it?"

Without hesitation, she removed the cord from her neck and handed it to him.

He wasn't certain what surprised him more, her willingness to do as he asked or the other two pendants that hung from the cord. All three were shiny and black, but each was different—a dragon, a wolf, and finally, a fox. "The other two…"

"Perrin and Mat. It's kinda obvious, isn't it?"

All he could do was nod. "And you say Lan gave you the locket? Was this bond done between him and the locket?"

She nodded. "Yeah, you did it for him. Bonded him to it, I mean."

"So you can use it to do this location weave and find him, right?"

She eyed him for a moment, searching his body for some reason, then slipped off the silver bracelet she had on her left wrist and held it out to him. "Put it on. I'll show you the weave so you can see for yourself." Any other time he would have refused, but he found himself snapping the thing over his wrist. Surprisingly, it fit perfectly. She gave him a questioning look. "You said not to channel till you gave me permission…"

Rand's eyes widened at her statement. This girl was related to Nynaeve? Nynaeve never deferred to anyone unless she was forced! "You may channel."

"It's a complex weave in what it does, but it's fairly easy to copy," she told him hurriedly. "I got it on the third try when you showed me, and I was only ten. You're going to have to change it some, because of the differences in _saidin_ and _saidar_, but this will give you the general idea."

The surprise he felt at her willingness to follow his orders paled in comparison to what he saw when she began to channel. A glow appeared around her, one that rivaled the brightness of the sun, and rather than simply feeling the chill of _saidar_, he actually _saw_ her weave. Lews Therin rose up in a frenzy in his head. _You must keep this bracelet! To be able to see weaves of _saidar_ is worth any price. Take it from her! She can do nothing to stop you! _Ignoring the raving man in his head, Rand paid attention to the weave. Two flows of Spirit, one flow of Earth, twisted together. Braided. But then she un-threaded the weave and pointed at the locket. "What are you—"

"Just showing you won't let you feel his location," she interrupted. "Try it yourself."

Holding the locket in his hand, he began the weave she had just shown him. It took three tries, and a bit of altering the weave so that it was a tight knot instead of a loose braid, before it worked. The locket grew comfortably warm at first, taking on a soft amber glow. Then, in mere moments…blood and ashes, he could _feel_ Lan. Stronger than the sense of direction the bond gave him of his women's locations, this weave gave him an exact location of the Warder. So exact he could have Traveled right to him. Wrapping his fingers around the locket, Rand turned toward the door just before the man opened it and stepped through.

"This is my locket, girl," Lan snapped, holding a locket in front of him. "I do not know who you think you are fooling, but—"

"I do not believe she is lying, Lan," Rand told him. "May I see the locket you have?" Lan gave him a strange look, but handed it to him without question. Setting Elnore's leather cord on the table beside him, Rand repeated the weave he had just done, only this time on the locket Lan had given him. This time, he felt nothing.

"He isn't connected to that one."

Rand turned to the girl and nodded. "Do you have something of yours that you're…connected to?"

Nodding, she giggled and pointed to the bracelet on his wrist. "When you taught me the weave, that's the first thing I did."

He took the bracelet off and repeated the weave on it. Sure enough, it worked. _If I had known that weave before, I could have found them all! Demandred, Sammael, Mesaana…_Rand forced Lews Therin down; he could not afford to have the man ranting in his head right now. "You said Dobraine died during Tarmon Gai'don, as if it had already happened. You said the location weave was developed _before_ Tarmon Gai'don, as if it had been a long time ago. I take it you believe you've been thrown into the past somehow?"

She nodded, though hesitantly. "Neither of you know me, Dobraine is alive…" Trailing off, she closed her eyes briefly. "I know this sounds insane, Rand, and I know I don't belong here, but I can't…blood and ashes. I guess I'll start at the beginning."

The beginning turned out to be her helping a boy search the ruins of the White Tower—ruins?—for _ter'angreal_, followed by an earth tremble that set off a chain of events that sent her through a supposedly inoperative _ter'angreal_ that sounded similar to the three arches in Rhuidean. She explained, briefly, how the Aes Sedai had once used the arches to test novices before raising them to Accepted, how it showed a past, present, and future you had to leave to become an Accepted.

"When I woke up," she continued, "I thought I was in the arches. Mother—Nynaeve—told me she almost got lost inside because she didn't want to leave Father but she forced them to appear. When I tried it, I couldn't go through them. When my thoughts started wandering I realized I was in _Tel'aran'rhiod_. So I opened a gateway back to my rooms and found Dobraine there."

Rand was speechless, as was Lan. All either of them could do was stare at her. Given her reaction, she must have mistaken their shock for mistrust.

"Rand, I swear I'm telling you the truth. When I realized what had happened, I knew you'd be able to make sense of it. Maybe get me home?" Her voice was trembling almost as much as her hands. "If not, maybe I can help you, if you let me. I know you, Rand. As well as I know my own parents. I remember every story you ever told me, about growing up in Two Rivers, about Mother harassing you and Mat, about your first kiss. Even about that voice you had in your head until—" She stopped abruptly, swallowing hard. "You have my word I'll help you in any way I can."

The girl's voice was hoarse by the time she finished. He almost laughed at the thought of calling her a girl. She could have easily been ten or more years older than him given the slowing, but she had clearly not been forced to grow up as quickly as he had. As they all had. Channeling at the nearby pitcher, he poured some cool punch into a goblet and floated it to her. He needed some time to digest everything she told him. Her claim that she was Nynaeve's daughter would explain her looks, and she knew about a lot of things only the real Nynaeve or someone from the Two Rivers would know. More importantly, she knew about Lews Therin.

_So did Cadsuane, and you still don't trust her_, Lews Therin whispered in his mind. Though the statement was true, he really had no reason to doubt her word. And there was something about this girl…

Well, stranger things had happened before, why should this be any different? This time Lews Therin giggled maniacally. _Because if she's telling the truth, then she is as powerful a weapon as the Choedan Kal…she can give us knowledge of the future. Something other than the vague hints of the prophecies! _And, truth be told, Rand knew he could easily handle her. One channeling girl was no match for him.

He thought about her story again in full detail, his ears burning red at the thought of telling anyone of his first kiss. Finally he came to a decision. What was it Mat always said? That's right, it's time to toss the dice.

He released _saidin_.

"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills," he finally said. "And it appears it willed a tangled weave this time." He ignored her question about getting her home; chances were she would never be able to return to her home. Even if she could, he could not help her do so until his war with the Shadow was done. And by then Rand was certain he would be dead. At least, he had been certain of it. From what she'd said, however, it seemed he lived. Perhaps she could tell him how to survive. _If you would live, you must die._ Perhaps she had an answer to that riddle. Well, there were a great many questions he had for her but that would have to wait just a bit longer. "You have proven yourself to be quite knowledgeable, but I must ask you to pass one test."

His statement did not make her flinch, quite the opposite. Now she was now eyeing him with curiosity. "Name it and I will do it."

Rand smiled, a genuine smile. This girl's obvious willingness to please him just might prove more valuable than any oaths of fealty he had received thus far. "There is someone I need you to bring back to me." Lan's gaze widened at that, but narrowed in annoyance when he said the name of the person he wanted her to fetch. There was a reason for it, of course, one that Lan would not understand until he explained it. But something in the girl's eyes told him that she understood his reasons, and the grin that spread on her face told him she would succeed. One way or another. He just wasn't sure whether that should comfort him…or frighten him.

* * *

Six days.

It had been six days since Mat had given the order to kill Renna to keep her from turning them all in to the Seanchan. Six days since he had begun trying to convince Tuon, futilely, that it was time for the circus to move again. But no, she would not hear it. And, because she had put the circus under her personal protection—and because it was still a large draw for the people of Jurandor—Valan Luca had refused to leave.

He sighed and shifted in the saddle. Had they started traveling when he wished, the circus would be near the Murandy border by now and he would finally be free of the noose that was tightening around his neck. Well, at least he would be away from the Seanchan. No matter which way he headed it seemed there would be some kind of trouble. Trouble was unavoidable now.

Even Andor had troubles, according to rumor. It seemed Elayne's determination to win the throne had caused division among the people of Andor and some of the nobles had the city, or possibly just the palace, under siege. If it wasn't one bloody problem, it was another. Well, troubles aside, at least Elayne would be able to tell Mat where Egwene had dragged the Band of the Red Hand. Rumor of two armies leaving Salidar were weeks old already and it seemed obvious to him that Talmanes followed his orders and joined Egwene's army. He had hoped the fool girl would come to her senses before it ever came to the rebel's army marching to Tar Valon, but hoping for a woman to show sense was as pointless as hoping fish could fly. There was nothing left to do but follow and try to catch up. The sooner, the better. His traveling companions were less than a pleasure, particularly the women.

The Aes Sedai and _sul'dam_ were getting too cranky to tolerate—in fact, he had recently been forced to teach Joline a lesson about slapping him. The bloody woman had deserved it, but it had put her in a snit. She, the other Aes Sedai, and even the _sul'dam_ had taken offense and attempted to channel at him. He finished what he started, though, ignoring their demands as to where he had gotten a _ter'angreal_ to protect him from channelers. After that, once he dumped Joline on her sore bottom and hurriedly found somewhere else to be, he had tried his best to steer clear of her lest she follow through with the threat that gleamed in her eyes. Granted, that didn't stop her from tormenting him at every turn, throwing rocks at him for amusement. Burn it all! Bloody Aes Sedai were nothing but trouble! Despite that, he had kept Tuon from collaring them again. Well, he hadn't stopped it—that had happened too quickly—but he had forced the woman to free them. That had not been a pleasant experience.

Regardless of how he felt about Aes Sedai, he could not condone them being collared. He had told Tuon as much and the only effect his declaration had on her was to make her stare at him more. She was always staring at him like he was some rare bug she had found and decided to put into a glass jar. Then again, it almost seemed as though she was finally warming up to him. As warm as she was capable of getting to someone she intended to make _da'covale_. He cringed at the thought. If she really wanted him tortured and enslaved for kidnapping her, why did she insist he repeatedly accompany her and Selucia to every bloody shop in Jurandor? It made no sense. _Women_ made no sense. He often found himself wishing Perrin or Rand were close. Those two were much better at dealing with women than he was.

Today he had been able to get free of them, thankfully. He told them all in no uncertain terms that he and Thom were going to scout out Jurandor again. If the Seanchan army was as close as he believed, they were leaving. No matter what Tuon said.

Shaking his head, he let out a long sigh and allowed his eyes to drift to some children playing outside the small farm they were nearing. The dice in his head began rolling, for what reason he had no clue. Having little choice, he ignored the sound and watched the children for a few moments. A pang of envy made him sigh. Sometimes he couldn't help but miss it, the simple life he had before being pulled into this burning mess. There was nothing he could do about it now, though; he was stuck. He was destined to marry a woman who wanted to enslave him, was stuck traveling with a bunch of flaming channelers, and had an army of Seanchan chasing him with all intentions of putting his head on a chopping block. Things were not good. And now those bloody dice were rolling around, giving him a bloody headache.

"You're mighty quiet today. Pondering women? Or just wishing for simpler times?"

Mat looked up at Thom and let out another sigh. As usual, the man was knuckling that beard of his, staring at Mat as if he were some sort of experiment gone awry. It reminded him all too much of the way Tuon looked at him. His mouth curled in disgust at that thought. "More like wishing I was in a nice inn somewhere having an ale with a pretty little serving girl on my lap. Anything to get away from all these bloody channeling women. And…" Trailing off, he pulled Pips to a stop and eyed the children he had watched only moments before.

Though they had been chasing each other pointlessly, as children sometimes did, they were now passing around toys. More accurately, long iron bell-shaped cups with tiny iron balls that seemed to be fastened to the bottom by a long string. The game's point was apparently to get the ball into the cup.

Something about the scene sparked a memory for him, a memory of Aludra at work with her fireworks. Some of the fireworks she launched into the air came from long tubes, often reinforced or even made with bronze or iron. Slowly, Mat smiled. That was it! That was why she needed a bell founder. The bell founder was the one who created the tubes she used to launch her fireworks. But could there be more to it?

Pulling Pips away from Thom, he made his way to the boys with the cups. "Hey, can I see one of those?" he asked, dismounting only a few feet from them. Though they seemed slightly distrustful of him, one of the boys handed him the toy. After a few moment of playing with the thing, an idea came to his mind. It was then that the dice came to an abrupt halt.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a gold coin and handed it to the boy. "I'll trade ya'," he said with a hopeful grin. As expected, the boy's eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of the coin. After eyeing him for a moment, the boy took the coin from him and nodded. It brought back yet another memory…of the day Moiraine had come to Emond's Field and given him, Perrin, and Rand coins. Simpler times, indeed.

Hopping back onto Pips, he turned back toward Thom. The man raised an eyebrow. "Mat, what are you—"

"We need to pick up the pace," Mat interrupted, urging Pips into a gallop. "The quicker we get done scouting for the Seanchan, the quicker we can get back to the circus." And the quicker he could get to Aludra. Today he was finally going to get his first lesson in the secrets of the Illuminators, and any other secrets she might be willing to give. She _did_ say she would tell him all her secrets. That thought brought a grin to his face; Aludra was about the only woman traveling with him that wasn't completely unbearable.

Yes, once he found Aludra he would get some answers. And maybe, just maybe, she'd have an opinion about how to implement his new idea. Holding the reins with one hand, he used his other hand to try to get the iron ball into the cup of his new toy. Light, if this worked his men would have a much easier time of it, easier than even they could imagine.

Suddenly, the dice started rolling yet again.


	4. Chapter 3 Putting Pieces into Play

_**Chapter 3**_

_**Putting Pieces into Play**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

A heatless fire burned in the black marble hearth, giving a soft reddish glow to the otherwise dark room. The fire crackled, causing short bursts of light that emphasized the black, gray, and red walls. It was vaguely reminiscent of Shayol Ghul, where black rocks were lit by the strange lights that flashed across the ashen sky. The way the room mirrored the Great Lord's abode was no doubt intentional. It was…comfortable.

Drawing in a lazy breath, the room's lone occupant allowed his gaze to drift to the far wall and settle on the huge tapestry of black and red silk that depicted a large red dragon awash in black flame. The tapestry fit well with the rest of the room's adornments and, despite its size and what it represented, was far from the most ostentatious thing in the room. Both the home and the decorations belonged to another, but that tapestry would soon find another home. The owner knew better than to argue.

The large manor was even more impressive than his preferred residence, not that he minded. No, the trappings of this Age were only useful to impress others. Nothing more. Only the ornately carved doors and windows gave him pause; they offered little more than additional entries for uninvited guests and he would have been happier without them. Regardless, any of the precious few who would dare drop into his temporary abode unannounced would greatly regret it. If they survived. And the move _was_ only temporary. It was all part of the game. A small smile formed on his lips. The end was near. He could feel it.

Three long strides carried him across the room, where he leaned against the hearth. Bright blue eyes focused on the game of _sha'rah_ that was laid out before them, but this time the man named Death was not seated at the table. This time, he played the game from afar.

His gaze fell on the Fisher. Still, it baited him, as it always did. As al'Thor did.

Drawing in a deep breath, Moridin focused on the black and white piece that waited in its starting place on the central square. There, it differed from Rand al'Thor. He had not remained motionless, waiting to be captured by one side or the other. Oh, one side had captured him, but they had not been able to hold him. It seemed a concept the primitives in this Age could not comprehend; no one side could hold the Fisher for long. Yet they kept attempting to get him in their grasp. It was of no matter. In the end, the entire situation played the way he wished. Every move al'Thor made was to his wishes. Until lately.

Fury boiled deep within him at the thought and black flecks danced across his eyes as he seized the True Power. The Fisher. The man had done the impossible; with the help of that child Aes Sedai, he had cleansed _saidin_. In the course of several hours, al'Thor had managed to undo the Great Lord's greatest strike against the fools of the Light. Now he sat motionless again, perhaps recovering. Perhaps hiding. Whatever the case, he was an easy target. That also displeased Moridin. At one point, he would have taken the opportunity to remove him permanently. That was no longer an option. The time to kill him had passed. The piece had to stay in play until the game was over. Moridin would protect him until then, if need be.

The pieces around him, on the other hand, could be removed. Or captured. Controlled. There were several choices, both in method and target. Moridin had already set the other Chosen to the task of removing the other two _ta'veren_. Though those two were the most important targets, there were others who aided al'Thor. There were others he cared for. Lews Therin had always been a fool when it came to women. Rand al'Thor was proving no different. Knowing al'Thor's weakness made the game all too easy.

Moridin's lips curled up as he thought of his plans for Andor, but he quickly refocused his thoughts on the opportunity that had recently presented itself. He had set his sights on the child that had helped al'Thor cleanse the male half of the True Source, though things had not transpired as he planned. The girl was a thorn in Moridin's side, albeit a small one. She had also had a hand in using the Bowl of the Winds to fix the weather. She had even managed to capture the Spider. He would have almost found it impressive if it had been skill, rather than luck, that brought her victories, but like the rest of these primitive children she greatly lacked skill. Luck would only go so far, no matter the Pattern's interference. Still, he had believed he had use for her. But now…now he held two pieces on the board that had much greater value than Nynaeve al'Meara. And she would still dance on his strings when all was said and done, just as her fool friends did.

Drawing in another long breath, he turned his gaze from the game board back to the far wall. Just as the black flames whipped at the dragon in the tapestry, darkness threatened to swallow al'Thor without him even noticing. The boy's situation had only just begun to decline, though. Moridin almost felt sorry for the fool. Only almost. Anyone who knowingly and willingly allowed himself to be used by the Pattern—or the threads in it—got exactly what he deserved in the end. The boy hadn't enough sense, much less the spine, to do what he must to win. Unlike al'Thor, Moridin knew exactly how to use what he was given, and use it he would.

When he'd received word from Shaidar Haran to Travel to this place, he had been certain what awaited him. Instead, he discovered gifts he had never thought to possess. One had been put into play earlier that day. The child had been difficult, at first, behaving as though she were his equal, yet he had disabused her of that notion rather quickly. She now served him and, more importantly, the Great Lord. She knew not to fail. If she did, Moridin would deal with her. Thoughts of her did not plague him. No, it was the second gift he had been given that truly held his curiosity. What part she played in the greater game he had yet to learn.

"She has awakened, Great Master."

Moridin did not turn at the sound of the servant's voice, despite his slight surprise at the man's timing. The girl had been unconscious for four days, despite having been Healed. He had begun to wonder if she would ever wake. "Bring her to me."

He listened to the fading footsteps, reveling in the pain that thundered through him from holding the True Power. His lips curled up slightly when he heard the distinct clank of a bolted door opening. After a slight pause, a woman's voice carried down the hallway, though her words were too muffled to decipher. It appeared she was as poor a captive as the other, though even less of a challenge to control.

As he awaited her arrival, he closed his fingers around the two mindtraps that hung on plain silken cords around his neck. The blood-red crystals pulsed with life. There were times he considered crushing those crystals, turning both Cyndane and Moghedien into mindless puppets. In some respects it would make his life easier. In the end, though, it was best to leave their minds in tact. They were no challenge to him; they never had been.

The thought brought his gaze back to the _sha'rah_ board. Though it was of no consequence, it still enraged him not to know the history of this game. To know the reasons for the Fisher's appearance, or the reasons each piece had varying moves. In the game, there were a great many pieces yet only a select few of those—two on each side—were truly different. Only those four could never make a direct attempt to capture the Fisher themselves. They could control him just the same, however. Even though they could neither capture nor remove him from the game, the Fisher could not challenge them either. An experienced player used those pieces to force the Fisher to a square on which they wished him to be. In the greater game, there were none that al'Thor was unable to challenge. Yet, there were a few he _would_ not challenge. In the end, it was naught but semantics. The result was the same. And Moridin would use them to their fullest extent.

Slowly his long fingers unfurled from around the _cour'souvra_. Slowly his rage faded into laughter. A master of _sha'rah_ knew how to adjust his plans when necessary in order to achieve victory. A master of the greater game was no different. It was more than moving pieces on a board, more than eliminating those that presented obstacles. One had to know when to use each piece, as well as how. And, when opportunity presented itself…

"Let go of me!" Moridin turned his attention to the doorway, specifically to the girl who was now attempting to jerk her arm free from her 'escort'. At Moridin's nod, the servant abruptly released the petite girl, but thanks to her insistent flailing to free herself, she stumbled forward several steps and nearly fell to the floor. He waited patiently for her to steady herself, his blue eyes still filled with _saa_. "Where are N—"

"How noble of you," he interrupted smoothly, "to worry about your friends so. Were I you, I would worry about my own skin." Before the girl could respond, he twisted the True Power to his will and let the weave fall over her. She flinched and shivered, making a pitiful whimpering noise. "Graendal could have done this less painfully for you, but I do not believe you would have enjoyed what came after. You aren't quite beautiful enough to hold her interest, anyway." Crumpling to the floor in a tiny heap, the girl groaned. He was tempted to try to ease her pain, if only to silence her annoying moans, but it was of no consequence as long as she could speak. "Look at me, child."

With hesitation, the girl's head snapped up, her large dark eyes blank. Those bright brown orbs did not hold the undying adoration that Graendal would have triggered with her weaves, but such nuances were superfluous at best—a waste of time and energy, at worst. No, all Moridin needed was the truth and for this girl to cooperate. If he broke her mind in the process, so be it. If not, then she could be used in other ways.

He smiled at her, never doubting that he looked very much like a wolf preparing to swallow its prey. She seemed oblivious. "Very good. Now we can move along to more important matters." Closing the distance between them, he reached down and put a finger under her chin, applying pressure until she got to her feet. Her expression was blank, save a barely noticeable trace of willingness to please in her gaze. She was his now. A captured piece, no matter how insignificant in the overall game, was still an asset. And he would use her to her fullest extent.

"Wh…what do you want of me?" she asked woodenly. Even under the thrall of the Compulsion-like weave, she seemed afraid. It was just as well; fear, like every other emotion, was an effective tool when wielded correctly. "Why am I here? Why—"

Moridin smiled, a true smile rather than a show of teeth. "I will answer your questions in time. But first you will answer mine."

* * *

"I hope you know what you're doing, sheepherder."

Rand did not bother meeting Lan's gaze, but he did notice the Warder had not taken his hand from the hilt of his sword until the girl had departed through the gateway she opened. "I hope so, too." He drew in a long breath. "I know it seems too opportune, but instinct tells me to let her prove herself. If what she claims is true, and I honestly believe it is, think about what that means. Think about what I could learn from her."

The Warder said nothing at first, his features as cold and stony as ever. There was a flicker in his eyes, though. Suspicion. Anger. And…was that fear? No, it could not be. Lan Mandragoran feared nothing. It had to be something else. Still, the only time Rand had seen so much emotion in Lan's eyes was when he was at Nynaeve's side. That much was understandable, of course. To be confronted by a girl who would one day be your daughter—who _was_ your daughter?—when certain death was the only future you believed awaited you… "Why Cauthon?"

It was not the question Rand expected, but he answered without pause, "Mostly, two reasons." There were more than two, but the rest was more than he cared to share. It wasn't that he believed Perrin untrustworthy—despite the way things had been left between them, he knew he could count on Perrin. At least he hoped he could. He forced the trace of doubt from his mind and continued, "Mat was always good at puzzles, and this girl is certainly an enigma. If she's lying, he will know. If she's worthy of our trust, he will know. I will defer to his judgment in this instance and I suspect, ultimately, you will too."

"And the second reason?"

Rand drew in another deep breath. It failed to clear his mind and, in the end, only made his side throb more. He ignored the pain, blocked it from his mind as he did so many other things lately. But Elnore's surprising arrival brought to life a spark of hope within him. Hope he could ill afford. But if she spoke the truth…how had Lan survived Tarmon Gai'don? How had _he_? _If you would live, you must die. _Did she have the answer to that riddle? "The Final Battle is drawing near, and I need Mat and Perrin at my side."

"Why not Aybara, then?" Lan asked without the slightest hesitation. Something in the other man's tone caused Rand's head to spin toward him. Lan's eyes were still as cold as ever, but there was…something…there. Before he could question it, Lan continued, "She can find him as well, if she is not lying about how she can use those trinkets she carries. He might have been a better choice." Though Lan seemed not to realize it, his tone held more than a hint of anger. But what had him upset? Elnore's claims? Her existence? And why did he feel Perrin was better able to get to the truth?

_Wolf brethren can smell lies, as well as emotions. _

Lews Therin's words hit like a knife in Rand's gut, sudden and sharp. Wolf brethren? What was the bloody madman on about now?

_Madman,_ Lews Therin muttered. _Better a madman than a fool. Golden eyes! All wolf brethren have them! _

Rand's features twisted into a frown. Golden eyes. Light, it was no sickness at all. It was…it was _what_?

"Sheepherder?"

Rand's gaze jerked to Lan once again. The way the man was staring at him made him wonder, however briefly, if he had been speaking his thoughts aloud. "She wasn't lying, Lan," he said hurriedly. Perhaps he could learn more about…wolf brethren…later. Why had Perrin not told him? "As for why I didn't choose Perrin…" There were many reasons for his choice—could he have really smelled the truth?—not the least of which was a fear that Perrin would estrange the girl before she ever had a chance to tell her tale. He might not hold a blade to her throat, as Lan had, but when he felt backed into a corner he was far more threatening than he seemed to know. If nothing else, that possibility made his choice the correct one. "Instinct told me it was best to send her to Mat first." Giving Lan no opportunity to question that, he added, "The big question is how Nynaeve will react when she returns."

Lan's jaw tightened. "Were my wife here, we would have no need for Cauthon or Aybara's input. She would quickly get to the truth."

The truth. Never had it seemed more elusive than at this moment. Really, it was just as well Nynaeve was not there. Rand knew Nynaeve well enough to know handle the situation poorly and, likely, would end up alienating the girl. Rand did not want that. Elnore's claims were too preposterous to be lies—the Forsaken preferred to either strike from a distance or from a less conspicuous position. Besides, if this were merely a plot to get closer to him, there were much easier ways to do it. And definitely more believable ways. Unfortunately, until she returned with Mat—_if_ she returned with Mat—all they could do was wait.

Actually, that wasn't entirely true.

Rand looked down at the heavy silver bracelet on his wrist. He could use it to find the girl and, if need be, Travel right to her. It was odd, in a way. The strength with which he sensed her, and Lan, while using the Location weave had numbed all of his other senses. It was as though he was wearing blinders, only seeing and sensing what the weave allowed. Everything else in the Pattern had faded to near nothingness. If only there was a way to alter the weave in order to temporarily sense the target's emotions as well…

Drawing in a deep breath, he ran his thumb and forefinger over the _ter'angreal_ bracelet. He had not noticed earlier just how large it was. The thick band was formed from thinner yet rigid strands of silver that had been woven together in a strange pattern, brought together by a clasp hidden behind a rectangular block of silver. Engraved in the block was a small black dragon. Light, where did she get this thing?

The strangest part of all wasn't its existence, nor the purpose it served, but rather the fact that Elnore had insisted on him keeping it. To help him against women who could channel, she said. When he attempted to argue, she had merely cocked one finely sculpted eyebrow at him and shook her head. That she was right stung more than it should have. He fully intended on returning it to her once she got back, but—

_No! Fool! We must keep it! We will always know when a woman channels, and be able to see her weaves! Had Mierin had this, perhaps she would not have…_

Closing his eyes for a moment, Rand wrapped himself in the Void and blocked out Lews Therin's ramblings. It was wrong to keep it, wasn't it? Elnore had sworn she had another way to see a man's weaves—according to her, whatever purpose a _ter'angreal_ served, one or more weaves could duplicate its effects, though sometimes it was quite difficult—but he wasn't certain whether to trust her words or not. He was not certain of much right now.

"Does that really work as she claimed?" Lan asked, interrupting Rand's thoughts.

He nodded once. "When she channeled I could…I saw a glow around her when she grasped the True Source, and when she channeled I could see her weaves. I managed to figure out how to duplicate the location weave from seeing her perform it." Lews Therin began his excited chattering again, insisting they…he…should keep the bracelet. "She said even if a woman hides her ability to channel"—Rand had not known _that_ was possible—"I'd still be able to feel if a woman is holding _saidar_ and will know when she's channeling, if not what."

"It works the same for women, should a man channel?" He waited for Rand's nod before continuing, "One would have to wonder why she would do such a thing. It was either generous of her to leave it with you or it is a trap." His tone made it all too obvious that he believed the latter.

Why, indeed. Why would she give away something that gave her an advantage no one else here had? Even if she knew a weave to duplicate the _ter'angreal's_ effects, it made little sense. Why not simply teach him the weave? She had already proved it possible, despite Aes Sedai claiming that teaching a man to channel was akin to a bird teaching fish to fly. So why give him the bracelet? No one he knew, himself included, would have given away such an advantage. Unlike Lan, he was not eager to assume the worst of Elnore for it. The problem was, he was not exactly certain _why_ he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Misplaced trust was much like a blade against your throat that you never saw coming. And it was just as deadly. He had to be cautious with her, no matter how much she seemed willing to help; there was no other choice.

Lan cleared his throat, letting out short breath. "What do you intend to do if she does not return with Cauthon? Or at all?"

Whether or not he was misplacing his trust with Elnore—what little he was willing to give—he had no doubts she'd be back. With Mat. Lan's determination to believe otherwise was clearly just as strong, though. "If she doesn't return by the time the sun sets, I will take several Asha'man and go after her."

"I would take more than several. She could be dangerous."

Rand laughed, his mouth twisting into a wry grin. "Of course. After all, she's your daughter."

The only response he received from the Warder was a disbelieving grunt. Coming from him, though, that one small noise spoke volumes.

* * *

"Perhaps you didn't hear me, Tuon," Mat said between clenched teeth. Those bloody dice were thundering in his skull and had been ever since he and Thom had returned from their trip into town. "Thom and I saw Deathwatch Guards in town. In Jurador. We are leaving. Now!"

Though the ornate, high-backed chair someone had fetched for her looked very out of place in the wagon, the woman looked every bit an Empress's daughter. And her 'Royal Court' stood around fawning over her every word. That was how Mat had begun to think of his former companions. Ever since they had learned Tuon's true identity, they seemed incapable of independent thought. What was it about nobles that turned all those around them into salivating fools?

Well, whether those who followed him could think or not mattered little to him. All that mattered was the fact that they were leaving. Once he and Thom had gotten to town and seen what was headed their way, even thoughts of learning Aludra's secrets were distant. Dealing with Seanchan was bad enough, but he was not going to war with bloody Deathwatch Guards! Hearing rumors of a Seanchan army near the border of Murandy did not help matters either. If they did not leave the circus now, and find a path that did not lead straight into a Seanchan trap…Light, he didn't even want to think about it.

"Patience, Toy. The time will come to part ways with Master Luca, but it is not now." Her lackeys nodded assent, which angered Mat further. He could have happily thumped the lot of them.

"When will that time be, Precious?" Tuon's eyes flashed at the name he had begun calling her to counter her calling him 'Toy', but he never slowed. "When the Empress has our heads mounted on a pike and has fed our most tender portions to a herd of _grolm_? You may be safe, Princess, but the rest of us will die when we're discovered. The Seanchan patrols grow ever bolder and it is a matter of hours before they search this traveling circus!"

"You forget that the circus is under my personal protection." Her lips curled up into one of her rare smiles, but it was so cold that Mat almost shivered.

"You mean all but me."

Tuon merely shook her head as if about to scold a small child, and he could scarcely hear his own thoughts over the dice pounding within his skull. Just as she opened her mouth, before she could speak, he acted. On impulse, he handed one of his daggers to a surprised Selucia and spoke, "Strike me down if you must, but after that you _will_ start making preparations to leave." Without another word, he scooped Tuon over his shoulder and started out of the wagon. He was surprised when he didn't feel the sharp kiss of his own blade as he carried Tuon into the late morning sunlight; Selucia had seemed ready to kill him over a kiss Tuon asked for, so why not this?

"Where are you taking me, Matrim!" Tuon screeched as the door slammed behind them.

Mat grinned, ignoring the fact that she was kicking and flailing in an effort to get free. The bruises he could already feel forming were well worth it. "Call me Mat." Only his mother called him Matrim, when he was in trouble. Nynaeve and Egwene had called him that as well, usually when they were trying to look down their noses at him. "But at least we're making progress if you no longer call me Toy. As for where I'm taking you, I was considering my wagon. Anywhere we won't be interrupted."

"But—"

"I intend to talk some sense into you or redden your backside," he continued right over her objections, "whichever you'd prefer. But one way or another, you're going to stop fighting me on this. I'll not sit here and wait for the Deathwatch Guard to put my head on a pike for your entertainment."

Her kicking increased as she howled, "Put me down this instant, you oaf! I am not leaving and neither are you!"

Mat stopped his progress and sighed, "As you wish, my lady." Without ceremony, he dumped Tuon into the closest mud puddle, not surprised that the dice came to an abrupt halt. "However, I am leaving as soon as possible. You may come with me if you like or stay here and wait for your Deathwatch Guard to rescue you"—she would be safe with them, she'd said herself that she trusted them with her life—"but either way you'll be safe. And we _will_ meet again." Of that he had no doubt. This woman was to be his wife, one way or another. He had done his best to woo her, for all the good it did. Giving her Akein, the black and white razor he bought for her, had pleased her greatly. It had even made her smile, just as he'd hoped when he purchased the horse. And, the Light help him, she _was_ beautiful when she smiled. Well, just because she had a pretty smile, and would be his wife, did not mean he had to let her run him. He'd had quite enough of that.

She growled, her normally icy demeanor completely thawed and boiling, "Then go! We will meet again, Matrim Cauthon, and you will regret it!"

Mat shrugged and looked up to find a crowd watching them. Among them were Vanin and Harnan, who had been fawning over Tuon only moments earlier. "We're leaving as soon as possible. Get the Redarms together and tell them to pack. And find Aludra as well. Tell her I've figured it out and am ready to hear her secrets, but she'll need to come with us." When Vanin raised an eyebrow, Mat added, "She'll understand. Just tell her." His gaze drifted to Thom. "You're welcome to come as well, but we _are_ leaving."

He gave a mocking bow to Tuon, who was still in the mud, angrily kicking her feet. The scene almost made him laugh—it did not seem that long ago that he had barged into a room, covered in mud, only to find this woman there. Instead of finding humor in it, though, it made him think of Tylin. That darkened his mood considerably. "Until we meet again, m'lady." And with that, he turned and started away, intent on packing his things.

As he stomped across the circus grounds toward his own wagon, he fumed. _This is not how things should be!_ How was he supposed to marry a woman who had no respect for him or his decisions? Worse, a bloody noble! The most bloody noble of bloody Seanchan nobles, in fact! And, on top of it all, she could channel. All her claims that she _chose_ not to do so meant nothing to him, and the fact that she saw nothing wrong with collaring Aes Sedai and, as the Aes Sedai named them, 'wilders', did nothing to increase _his_ respect for _her_. Though, he did respect her. In some ways, at least. There were times—when she wasn't insulting him or behaving like a raving lunatic—that he even thought he loved her, which was convenient since she was destined to be his wife. But he wouldn't allow her to hurt Aes Sedai, not when his sister would be one.

Letting out a curse that would only be appropriate in a hell, Mat kicked a rock then cursed again when a sharp pain shot through his foot to his ankle. This simply was not his day. Or, possibly, his lifetime.

"You sliced through my balls!"

So foul was his mood, he did not turn to investigate this exclamation behind him, though it certainly would have tickled his mirth on any other day. Not even when he heard a woman's amused chuckles did he so much as crack a smile.

"I sliced through your _what_?" the woman asked in the midst of her laughter.

"My balls! I'm a juggler you light-blinded fool! And I was lucky you didn't slice through _me_! Bloody Aes Sedai witches and your bloody..."

It figured as much. One of the Aes Sedai was causing problems. Well, Mat Cauthon refused to so much as look her direction! Soon the Seanchan would be here so let the bloody women channel and draw them quicker. He would be gone before they arrived. He wasn't about to start another battle, and he had no intention of losing his head this day. Burn it all, he had saved the Teslyn, Joline, and Edesina's scrawny necks from an _a'dam_ for the last bloody time.

"Mat!"

Stubbornness kept him from immediately acknowledging the direct address. It was only once he realized that whoever had spoken his name was in pursuit that he stopped and turned to see who it was. As soon as he turned, a well-curved form collided with his own, knocking the breath from him and nearly driving him to the ground.

Her arms were around his neck and her lips brushed his cheek before she muttered, "Light, it's good to see you." Her words came out in a choked voice, as though she was fighting the urge to burst into tears. Not that he could see her to confirm it; she was still wrapped around him too tightly for him to get a better look at her face.

As Mat's breath returned, he assimilated the kiss and the desperate hug he now found himself locked into. One thing was certain from the gestures—he was familiar to this woman he did not fully recognize. She bore an uncanny resemblance to Nynaeve, but this was not her. Not with this clothing. Nynaeve would have swallowed her own shoe before she wore anything this tight. This girl was also a tad shorter and a touch fuller in the bosom.

Since leaving Emond's Field, Mat had learned a valuable lesson—when a strange woman recognizes you, it's safest not to disabuse her of the notion you recognize her back. In attempting to rekindle his memory, Mat let his hands roam about her body. It was the least he deserved after the day he'd had. She actually squeaked when his hands reached her backside, but she didn't move away, which brought a grin to his lips.

Her arms tightened about him, as if she feared he might vanish, and pulled away just enough to look into his eyes as she launched without warning into a fantastic tale of her past. His future. Had this been a year past, he would have laughed at the very idea that she could be telling the truth, but now…well, now very little seemed impossible.

She spoke more quickly than anyone should have been able, her tone growing more desperate as the words came tumbling from her soft rosy lips. When she concluded, telling him that Rand had sent for him and was in need of his assistance, she still had not relinquished her grasp. Despite thinking, however briefly, that she could be telling the truth, it was too much for him to absorb much less believe. A small smile touched his lips when he realized he was looking down into a face that so closely resembled Nynaeve's…and not having to worry about when she would kick him. Still, no matter how much she looked like Nynaeve this girl was a stranger to him. Was she speaking the truth? Or was this some Aes Sedai trick?

Several possibilities crossed his mind, not the least of which was that this girl—woman—could be insane. Better insane than a Forsaken in disguise, he supposed. That was another possibility, one he didn't care to consider.

His expression grew determined, and just a bit grim. He considered telling her to go back to Rand and tell the bloody man he could bloody well wait—no matter Rand's _ta'veren_ pull, Mat had had quite enough of people expecting him to jump when they snapped—but when he saw the desperation in her icy blue eyes he simply couldn't do it. The reason for Rand sending her to him suddenly made sense. This wasn't just about her coming to fetch him, not in the least. "You must understand how…" He trailed off, searching for a word that wouldn't send her into a snit. Women tended not to like being called insane, even when they were. "How hard this is to believe. I need more than just your story, Elnore. I need some proof before I take it as truth."

The girl let out a long breath, her expression slightly weary. Chewing her lower lip, she nodded. "Is there somewhere we can go? To talk alone, I mean."

Taking her by the hand, he nodded and continued in the direction he had been headed, not stopping until they reached his wagon. Somehow he would not have been the least bit surprised if Tuon had sent some of her servants ahead of him to keep him from carrying out his plans, but thankfully the wagon was empty. It wasn't until they were inside with the door securely closed that Elnore spoke again, though her voice was softer than before. Almost hesitant.

"Where should I start?" she asked, nervously chewing her lower lip yet again. "With that foxhead medallion that keeps people from channeling at you? Or that you got it, and your _ashandarei_, from that doorway in Rhuidean? Or the scar hidden under that black silk scarf around your neck?" She flashed him a mischievous grin. "How about the fact that I know where you're ticklish? I mean where you're _really_ ticklish, not where you just pretend to be and…" She trailed off, her eyes widening. "Wait, I know..." Struggling to get her hand inside the pocket of her tight leather pants, she finally pulled out a small gray stone. "You gave this to me not too long ago. You said no one knew about it but me and you and that you took it from Emond's Field when you left to remind you of home."

He took it from her, noticing that her hand was trembling. He couldn't believe it—it _was_ exactly like the stone he had taken when he left home, if more weathered. A near duplicate was now in his pocket.

"You said you always kept it to remind you of what it was like to be innocent. Of what you left behind." By the time she finished, her voice was barely above a whisper. He couldn't imagine saying those things, but who knew what he'd be like in twenty, even ten, years? Even now he sometimes thought he'd seen and done more than anyone should ever have to. "You seemed so sad when you said it. And you wanted me to have it so I could remember it, too. No matter what." She fell silent before seeming to force herself to look at him. A nervous laugh bubbled out of her. "I even know what you're thinking now."

Raising an eyebrow, he gave her a quizzical look.

She just grinned. "Yeah. And I could use a nice strong drink, too. You have anything?"

Wordlessly, he nodded and moved to pull out a jug of the Aiel _oosquai_ he had snagged when he was in the Waste. If ever there was a time for it, it was now. It was only then that he noticed the dice in his head had stopped, which was more than a bit disconcerting since he had not even noticed when they had started again.

* * *

"A pen and parchment, Selucia."

Though it was the second time she had issued the command, Tuon's tone was patient. Perhaps she understood, though Selucia was not certain. In all her years with Tuon, she had never found herself so utterly shocked. So shocked that, had she been on fire, she was not overly certain she would notice. "Why?" was the only word her lips managed to form.

"Because I would like to write a letter to my husband," Tuon responded dryly. "Now come to your senses and do as I say. I do not wish to have you punished over something so trivial."

The threat was enough to make Selucia move her feet, not because she feared punishment but because she could not bear the thought of displeasing Tuon. It sometimes struck her as odd, how the girl who had once been her charge was now her mistress. Mistress and friend. Yet it was right. Selucia knew she was where she belonged and she would not have traded anything for it. She would happily kill or die to keep Tuon safe. Still, there were times, such as this one, that she truly wondered how the young woman's mind worked.

"You know it was meant to be," Tuon said softly, once Selucia had placed the pen and parchment in front of her.

She snorted disdainfully. Yes, it was meant to be, but… "The man dumped you in a mud puddle as if you were some…some…" She trailed off, unable to think of a word foul enough for how Matrim Cauthon had treated her mistress.

"I am well aware of what he did, but he fulfilled his promise. He released me." Tuon must have seen something in her eyes, because she added, "He knows I trust the Deathwatch Guards. He even said as much. Remaining with him for a time was necessary. Yet, I have been away long enough. It is time to return to my duties." She ran a tiny hand over her scalp, frowning. "When I finish this letter, you may shave my head."

Selucia blinked. Another surprise, but this one made her smile. Tuon was finally removing her veil. It was past time for that. She said nothing, though, merely stood silently at Tuon's side as she wrote the letter. Though she was tempted, she managed to keep her eyes away from the paper. What Tuon said to her husband was none of her business. Husband. The Light help her, she still could not believe it.

As soon as Mat had pushed a dagger into her hands, Selucia had known things would change drastically. Never would she have imagined that Matrim Cauthon had the unmitigated gall to throw Tuon over his shoulder like a sack of flour! She should have known, though. After all, he had kidnapped her.

No, not kidnapped. Tuon did not have to allow herself to be taken away from the Tarasin Palace. It had been a choice, a choice Selucia understood even if she did not approve. Still, for their marriage ceremony to be completed the way it was—with Tuon covered in mud and Cauthon too far away from her to hear—did not bode well for their future. Did it? Some of Cauthon's men, along with Egeanin and the escaped _sul'dam_, had been there to witness it, to hear Tuon announce the man as her husband. All had been shocked, especially when Tuon calmly turned and strode back into her wagon without another word.

Letting out a silent breath, she glanced over Tuon's shoulder at the letter. Not her business, but she was curious. It did not take so long to inform someone that he was now married to you. Tuon had more to say, apparently. Much more.

"He loves you," Selucia said softly, even as the thought entered her mind. Perhaps their situation was not the best, and the completion of their wedding was an ill omen, but all was not lost. Tuon deserved happiness and, despite having to fight the urge to slide a knife between Cauthon's ribs, Selucia knew a man in love when she saw one.

Tuon's head lifted, her dark eyes fixing Selucia with a curious look. "Perhaps," she said simply, before turning back to her letter.

Selucia fought a small smile. As noncommittal as Tuon's response seemed, it meant she had considered the possibility. Strangely, after having watched her with him, Selucia was almost certain she was beginning to love Matrim Cauthon back. That, at least, would make their lives more pleasant together. But after what had transpired earlier, when Tuon got her hands on that man again, he would spend several days begging forgiveness. And, likely, in a great deal of pain.

* * *

The dark-haired girl lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, her ringlet curls plastered to her face as she wailed at her own act of betrayal. It was a betrayal she would never remember, however. Moridin looked down at her, laughter boiling uncontrollably from the deepest recesses of his soul. The more she cried, the more he laughed. So hard was he laughing that soon he joined her in her tears. He wiped at them, futilely, as more fell. For the life or death of him, he could not cease his laughter. The other Chosen believed him to be mad, and his laughter would only confirm it for them if they had witnessed this display, but the truth was he was far from it. Oh, the True Power _was_ addictive, that much was fact, and the dangers it presented to the world were just as real, but madness? No, from that he was protected. At the moment, though, he had no doubt he could be taken for a madman, perhaps as mad as Lews Therin himself. But Lews Therin had never been given the gift Moridin had just received.

Slowly, his laughter waned to amused chuckles as he turned his back to the child. Again, his eyes fell on the game that was laid out before him. In the game of _sha'rah_, there were only two sides. What few realized was that, in the greater game, those two sides were divided into warring factions, each too busy concentrating on its own successes to pay attention to anything else. Moridin had controlled a number of those factions from the beginning, but now…

Crossing the room, he reached down and flicked the Fisher. The piece teetered then fell, its bandaged eyes facing upward. Moridin smiled. The girl had given him all he needed to deal with al'Thor. More than he ever dreamed, really.

His eyes swept the board, his mind comparing each piece to the corresponding pieces in the greater game. He now controlled most of the pieces he needed; the others would soon be in his grasp. These children were making it all too easy. They had sealed their own doom, and al'Thor had allowed it. He was just too much of a Light-blinded fool to realize it.

It was too late for the boy now. It was just a matter of time. Patience.

Either way, the game was his.

* * *

After several hours, Mat was sure of one thing—he had likely been the one to teach this girl how to drink. It brought back the memory of him of drinking with Birgitte—he was willing to swear that bloody woman had a hollow leg. Perhaps a hole in her foot as well. Elnore was no different. However, after consuming the entire jug of _oosquai_, and several jugs of wine, they were both speaking more slowly and deliberately. Truth be told, the both of them had needed every last drop they'd drunk.

During the time he'd been alone with her, Elnore had recounted a number of Mat's secrets to him. Some he had only shared with his closest friends as well as others he had never told anyone. Like the last time Nynaeve had switched him in the Two Rivers. Neither he nor Nynaeve had ever told a soul about that. When Elnore first mentioned it, he nearly jumped up in denial that he had merely been walking by her window and was not laying in wait for a view of Nynaeve; yet, he did not bother to deny it when Elnore merely watched him with a knowing smile. Instead, he took another drink hoping the warmth of alcohol would mask his blush.

Discussing Nynaeve ultimately made Mat frown. "How do you think she'll react to…well, to you?"

"I loathe considering it, especially given Father's reaction. He acted like I'm a bloody Trolloc. Or worse." As she refilled both of their cups, spilling just a bit in the process, she snorted. "All I know is that, if Mother were here, she'd dunk both our heads in water until we choked. Last time she saw me after I'd been drinking, I swear I thought she'd drown me." Flopping back into the chair across from him, she gulped down some of the freshly poured wine. "If I never have to suffer that again, it'd be too bloody soon. I've never understood how suffocating someone is supposed to sober them!"

Mat laughed. "When was--"

Whatever he had planned to say was quickly forgotten when the wagon's door was suddenly thrown open. It banged into the wall, leaving more than ample room for one of the Aes Sedai to stride purposefully toward him. Mat was pretty sure it was Joline, but he had drunk enough that he really didn't care. He did wonder, briefly, if a few drinks would rid her of her permanently sour expression. Somehow he doubted it.

"Foolish man!" Yes, it was definitely Joline and, instead of exuding Aes Sedai calm, she sounded like a petulant child ready to throw a tantrum. "Just what under the Light do you think you are playing at?"

When Mat saw Elnore start to get to her feet, he stopped her with a slight shake of his head. Though she didn't look too happy about it, she sat down without even a hint of an argument. If only Joline were as easy to handle…

"I asked you a question, Matrim Cauthon," the Aes Sedai snapped, planting herself in front of him. "You cannot part ways with that girl until she's been forced to see sense and end this ridiculous war!"

Mat sighed. In one respect the woman was right—Tuon was the only one who could stop the wars the Seanchan brought to the Westlands—but there was naught any of them could do about it. He could have reasoned with Tuon until he turned gray, but she would not relent. "You promised to let her be, Joline." No matter how much Aes Sedai excelled at avoiding their promises, there was no wiggle room in that one. He had seen to that much when he had removed the collar from Joline's neck.

"And I cannot break my word," Joline huffed, "but she will listen to you. She—"

"She will do as she feels she must," he interrupted, somehow managing to keep from slurring his words too much. "As we all will. But the time has come for us to part ways. You can—"

"You will stay here until we decide it is time to leave." His medallion went cold, a certain sign that the bloody woman was, at the very least, holding the One Power. Whether or not she was attempting, in vain, to channel at him was not something he was willing to bet on. She was certainly angry enough to pelt him with rocks, or whatever else was available, just as she had since that day in her wagon. "You will—"

"That's quite enough," Elnore interrupted, getting to her feet and regally walking towards the other woman. She swayed only a bit, making a clear effort to mask any signs of strong inebriation. This time Mat didn't stop her. "Mat told you how things will be. What you want doesn't matter. Now release _saidar_ and go."

The Aes Sedai sneered at Elnore and gestured her aside. That sneer was replaced by surprise, then rage as Joline sputtered, "You shield me? Wilder scum!" As she opened her mouth to continue her tirade, it locked into position, leaving her with an outraged expression. Elnore had somehow muzzled her with the One Power, and used it to force Joline's jaw to open more widely. It looked painful, but it wouldn't harm the woman. Except for her pride, at least.

Elnore had let Joline speak her mind. Now Elnore opened her mouth to return the favor. Mat grimaced as the girl's tirade began. Something had apparently snapped in her when Joline insulted her, and Mat knew someday in a distant future he would be blamed for the language now pouring from her mouth—language to make the surliest dock worker blush. Blood and ashes! He'd never even heard some of the curses she was using! Hopefully he'd remember those when he sobered…

When Elnore had had her say, she returned to her seat and threw back another stiff drink. Mat addressed a very ashen-faced Joline, "You may leave. Tell your sisters the Lady Elnore and I will be traveling to see the Lord Dragon. We will be leaving with my men within the hour. We offer you safe passage out of Seanchan territory—"

"—provided you swear fealty to the Dragon Reborn," Elnore concluded.

Though her cheeks reddened greatly, Joline nodded queasily and looked to Elnore. A moment later, the Aes Sedai was working her jaw. She didn't exactly rush out of the wagon, but neither did she dally. As the door to the wagon slammed shut, Mat turned to Elnore with a smile, "You've proven yourself to be the daughter of Nynaeve al'Meara. You have also proven yourself my friend. Now, if you help me pack my things, we'll go see Rand." He winked and added, "And we can show him that you passed your test."

Elnore grinned, her blue eyes filling with joy. She didn't hesitate to help him pack, but she did insist they finish off the jug of wine they'd just opened. So as not to waste it, of course. It may have caused them to take a bit longer packing than was completely necessary, but that's exactly what they did.

* * *


	5. Chapter 4 Unlikely Encounters

_**Chapter 4**_

_**Unlikely Encounters**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

As Mat strode down the hall holding Elnore's strangely steady hand, he involuntarily reached for the letter in his coat pocket. It had been delivered before he, Elnore, Olver, and his men—along with Aludra, Thom, Bayle, Egeanin, the Aes Sedai and the escaped _sul'dam_—had parted company with Valan Luca's menagerie. The seal was unmistakable…a crescent moon surrounded by eight others in various phases of alignment. Even if the nine moons had not been on the letter, he would have known it was from Tuon. Only her touch could have left the almost painfully spicy scent that lingered on the parchment. She had purchased the perfume in Jurador, insisting on a unique combination of fragrances. After all, the woman who would, one day, be Empress could not wear a perfume worn by commoners.

Mat shook his head at the thought. Light! That bloody woman would, at some point, become his wife. Jerking his hand away from the letter, Mat instinctively tightened his grip on Elnore's hand. She responded in kind, giving his hand a squeeze before looking up at him and flashing an encouraging smile. He knew, without asking, that she was nervous about facing Rand again, and even more so about seeing Lan, yet she hid it well. Shaking his head at her, he winked and earned a bigger smile from her for his efforts. His problems with Tuon could wait. Right now, they had to deal with the bloody Dragon Reborn.

Besides, Mat had seen the Seanchan troops advancing moments before he and his men had departed through the gateway. There was no reason to worry about Tuon. Blood and bloody ashes, why was he even questioning it? He tried to ignore the nagging doubt in the deep recesses of his mind and dismissed it as unjustified concern. The Seanchan soldiers would protect her with their lives, and he had known that when he left. Yes, Tuon would be safe, as would those under her protection. Wryly, for what seemed the thousandth time, he noted he would not have been included in that list. The woman seemed determined to see his head on a chopping block, so much so that he would not put it past her to send the Deathwatch Guards after him. Well, they couldn't catch him now. After he had pointed out to Elnore that the Seanchan may be close enough to sense her channeling, she had done something—reversing weaves or some such thing, she said—so they could neither sense her channeling nor see any remnants of her gateway. The Aes Sedai had been staggered, demanding to know how to open a gateway themselves. Elnore's response had been…colorful. Whatever she had done, she had no intentions of teaching them. According to her, they were troublesome enough already. Mat didn't exactly disagree.

Behind him the Aes Sedai started whispering amongst themselves, pulling him from his thoughts. They were as anxious about this meeting as either he or Elnore, and though they had balked at the idea of swearing fealty to Rand they had quickly changed their minds when they had realized the Seanchan were so close. Toveine and Edesina had practically begged him to bring them along; Joline had more or less demanded the same, behaving as though swearing fealty to Rand had been her idea in the first place. Better free and under the Dragon Reborn's authority than in a collar. Why did it bother them to swear fealty so much, anyway? It wasn't as though an Aes Sedai was unable to find a way around any promise she made. Even the oaths could be avoided when they chose to do so.

As they approached Rand's study, the Maidens guarding the door stopped the other women. "You must wait!" Mat was astonished when the Aes Sedai stepped aside. They were hardly meek, but it appeared they were eager to find any reason that would keep them from fulfilling their promise to him and Elnore. As though reading their intent, Elnore cast a knowing look in their direction. As she opened her mouth, however, he tugged on her hand to get her moving. Given half a chance, she would get into an argument with the Aes Sedai. Or worse. He had the growing suspicion that, like her mother, she wasn't averse to resorting to violence, and that impression had nothing to do with the sword hanging from her belt. Whether or not she knew how to use it wasn't the point; it was best not to give her the chance, lest he get caught in the middle.

Rand and Lan were waiting inside, but it was Rand who gestured for the pair to seat themselves. Lan merely stood silently by the wall looking like the embodiment of death itself. Last Mat had seen the man, he had been hard and cold. That hadn't changed in the least. What truly bothered him, though, was the fact that Rand had adopted the same look. Had he been taking lessons?

Sniffing the air and frowning disapprovingly, Rand asked, "Is she who she says she is?"

Mat grinned and took a seat on the sofa, jerking on Elnore's hand so she plopped down next to him. "She has Nynaeve's temper." Her proud smile almost made him chuckle as he placed his arm around her shoulder. Most women denied having a bad temper, yet Elnore was clearly pleased at the prospect. His answer, however, did not seem to be the one Rand wanted so Mat decided to clarify, "Yes, she's who she says she is. I have no doubt about it."

Rand's cool gaze stayed on Mat for a few moments before falling on the young woman. "I believe you now, and I welcome you to our troubled time. You offered to help earlier, and I will accept that offer. Any information you can give me will be appreciated." He paused, his jaw tightening. "I am warning you now, though; I give everyone one chance. The moment they turn on me, they never make the same mistake again. Others have tried and have paid for it."

Mat's jaw dropped. What in the name of the Creator was Rand doing?

"Turn on you?" Elnore snapped, her mouth twisting as though she had just bitten into sour fruit. "Blood and bloody flaming ashes, how could you even…" She trailed off with a small sigh, nodding slightly. Apparently she was just realizing he did not know her at all. "I understand. And I accept your terms."

The defeat in her tone tugged at Mat's heart. "Don't mind Rand, Elnore," he told her, glaring at Rand reprovingly as his arm tightened around the girl's shoulders, "he's just grumpy all the time lately." His declaration earned him a scowl from Rand, but it was worth it when he saw Elnore's small smile out of the corner of his eye. Lan, for his part, looked almost as displeased as Rand. And colder than ever. Light, marrying Nynaeve would have ruined anyone's mood, but the way Lan was glaring at Elnore left Mat wondering if the bloody man meant to run her through with that sword of his. It was bloody well disturbing. And uncalled for.

"I have reason to be, as you put it, grumpy," Rand announced coldly, holding Mat's eyes with his own. "But as that may be, I mean what I said. Now, what news do you two have for me?"

Mat cocked an eyebrow at his friend, tempted to tell him where he could stuff his questions, but Elnore shifted and spoke first. "We brought three Aes Sedai with us. They're waiting outside and want to swear fealty to you." At Rand's disbelieving look, she shrugged. "Okay, so they don't really _want_ to, but we didn't give them much choice. They either agreed to swear fealty to you or we were going to leave them where they were and let the Seanchan have them. They decided it was in their best interest to swear fealty to you."

With a derisive snort, Rand shook his head. "It is good to know obeying me is preferable to being put in a collar. The way some of the Aes Sedai have behaved, I would think they preferred the latter."

"The Aes Sedai are a bunch of horses' asses," Elnore responded, shoving herself to her feet. Mat coughed at her choice of words, wondering where she learned such language. If Nynaeve heard the girl say such things, she would box her ears! "You should know that by now, Rand. And even the ones who swear fealty to you can't be trusted fully. No Aes Sedai can be trusted." She stomped across the room, swaying slightly from the effects of all the drinks she'd had earlier. "After they swear to you, you probably ought to hand them over to the Wise Ones, though those old bats aren't much better." He couldn't help laughing out loud at that; it seemed Elnore had little or no use for any channeling woman. He looked to Rand, who seemed to be weighing every word the girl uttered, and she uttered quite a bit. The girl could easily out-talk an Ogier! "Seriously, I'd keep all those bloody women away from me, were I you. With the exception of Mother, you cannot trust women who channel." She stopped in front of the pitcher of winepunch and glanced back at Rand with a grin as she reached for it. "And me, of course. It's just that—"

"You have had quite enough to drink."

Lan's icy voice cut through the conversation like a blade. For a moment it seemed the girl was going to ignore him, but one glance in the Warder's direction changed her mind. His face may as well have been cut from stone for the lack of emotion it held, but his eyes were filled with anger. She had told Mat, when they had been drinking earlier, that Lan did not accept her as his daughter and had even gone so far as to hold his blade to her throat. Still, his feelings on the matter didn't seem to stop him from issuing orders to the girl like she was a young, half-witted soldier under his command. Mat was sure that was somehow Nynaeve's influence.

With only the slightest of huffs, Elnore set down the cup of winepunch and started pacing again. She glanced down at the ring on her finger, twisting it. "Where's Logain? And Perrin? And Min?" After a slight pause, she added, "And Mother?" Her expression grew grim as she looked to Rand. "I can help you. I _want_ to help you. But do you think I can get home eventually?" The question sounded as though it was ripped from her and as the silence fell when she was finished, he saw the pain in her eyes.

Mat wasn't sure what set him into action. It could have been Elnore's wounded expression or Lan's seeming resentment toward her or even Rand's indifference, yet something drove him to his feet in that long moment of silence. "Of course, he can get you home, dumpling! He's the bloody second coming of the Dragon, Lews Therin Telamon! However, while we're all asking questions, I have one of my very own to add to the list." He gestured for patience by raising one finger as he strode across the room and drained the goblet Elnore had filled. He filled it again and drained it once more. Being around Rand and Lan was enough to make anyone to drink. When the goblet was full a third time, Mat turned with goblet in hand, but stopped when he noticed Lan's disapproving scowl. Mat rolled his eyes and turned to fill a second goblet. This he brought to Elnore's waiting hand before leading her back to the sofa and forcing her to take a seat next to him. She buried her face in the goblet, pointedly avoiding Lan's glare.

"Mat," Rand began impatiently. "Whatever you—"

Mat quickly interrupted with a winsome smile, "My apologies, Rand. I know your time is most precious these days. My question is this: what news do you have of the Band of the Red Hand? I mentioned them in passing as we were led to your study and received some odd looks from passing Asha'man. Last I saw them, they were with Egwene and she was playing at being Aes Sedai. No, that's not quite right. She thought she was the bloody Amyrlin!" He had done everything he could to help her with that, no matter how foolish he thought it was. Egwene would be lucky to escape with her head intact.

"So, while we're all answering questions, tell me what news you have of my men." He turned his head when he felt his goblet being slipped from his grasp, only to find Elnore holding it with a sour expression on her face. She had apparently finished her own drink and decided to steal his. "Elnore," he reprimanded, "you—"

"Egwene bloody al'Vere, that bloody flaming lying backstabbing piece of..." She trailed off when she saw Mat's wide eyed stare, and he had no doubt she saw the same reaction from the other two men in the room. "What? Glare at me all you like, but heed my words...you can _not_ trust her, especially you, Rand. You have no idea..." Again she trailed off, this time with an annoyed huff. "Fine, don't listen to me, but Myrddraal will turn into bloody princes before I let that woman hurt you, Rand. I'll burn the bloody Tower to ash before _any_ Aes Sedai hurts you again." She froze, staring at Rand and chewing her lower lip nervously.

Mat looked from her to Rand and back again. Rand looked as though someone had hit him in the stomach with an axe. Elnore, for her part, looked as though she were afraid she had angered him. Blood and ashes, the Aes Sedai had hurt him? Or would hurt him? How? Before he could ask that question, Elnore sighed again and turned her blue-eyed gaze to him.

"Your army is in Murandy," she said firmly, only to, a moment later, add, "I think. I'm not really sure when this is but I remember you saying that you caught up with them in Murandy while you were traveling with that bloody cir…cus." She grimaced, and so did Mat when he realized what had happened was not happening now. The girl's presence was changing things. Hopefully for the better. "We should probably go get them, or send an Asha'man after them. The Seanchan will be there soon and they can't do a bloody thing against the Seanchan." After a moment, she twisted her mouth and added, "Well, actually, you and your men kind of stomped the droppings out of a bunch of the Seanchan but that's not the point." Shrugging, she turned up the goblet she stole from Mat and drained it.

* * *

Rand watched the girl as she drank more winepunch, using the momentary silence to consider Elnore's statements. For the first time in a long time, he was unsure where to begin. Her thoughts were scattered at the moment, likely a result of over-consumption—given how strongly both she and Mat reeked of _oosquai_ and wine, it was a wonder either of them could walk as well as they did, which really wasn't well at all—yet she had revealed a great deal of import in her ramblings.

_She changes the future by her very presence here. She is a threat!_

Fortunately for Rand, no one noticed his silence. Mat had begun complaining about his missing drink and had set off in a quest for another. He spied another pitcher across the room and took a long draw directly from the spout, pausing only long enough to curse about Murandy.

_Or a boon! We can use her! To destroy our enemies…but Demandred first. We will destroy him first of all!_

Mat's satisfied expression soured as the beverage slid down his throat. He coughed and spat what was left back into the pitcher, causing Elnore to burst into a fit of laughter. He then cursed those who served plain punch, as if it were some perverse attempt to poison those seeking winepunch. Then in keeping with the mood of the room, he launched into a completely divergent topic, cursing Egwene. "…left them there to protect her. And she dumps them in bloody Murandy. Has she no idea what kind of trouble a large group of bored soldiers can cause?"

Though Rand had heard reports of King Roedran building an army in Murandy in an effort to finally consolidate the kingdom, mention of Egwene stopped Rand from sharing that bit of information. Elnore's thoughts on Egwene had sent a chill up his spine. Had she done something to him? _Would_ she? He had no doubt she would be angry when she learned Aes Sedai had been forcibly bonded—no matter that they had intended to break White Tower law in order to attack and kill every man at the Black Tower—but would that be enough cause in her mind for her to harm him?

_She will lock me in the box again! Listen to the girl!_

Lews Therin sobbed and continued ranting, but Rand refused to be distracted by it. He had considered various ways to appease Egwene, and had finally come to the conclusion that the only solution was to allow her and her followers to bond enough Asha'man so they had as many Asha'man as the Asha'man had Aes Sedai. Now that Beldeine had bonded Karldin that would give Egwene forty-seven Asha'man. He was not willing to give more than that, not with Tarmon Gai'don approaching. He needed men who would obey _him_ without having to ask their bond holders, or Egwene, for permission first. After hearing Elnore rant about Egwene's untrustworthiness, though, he found himself wondering if it was wise to even give her that much.

Egwene had always been a tough negotiator, and if you gave her a foot you would be lucky if she only took a leg. He did not delude himself into thinking he could stop the bonding altogether—it seemed some Asha'man liked the idea of being Warder to Aes Sedai, whatever their reasoning—but that did not mean he had to give the Aes Sedai men who would rather remain free of their strings. Even more importantly, why should he give them men who would prefer to serve him instead of the Aes Sedai? Light, what was he to do? If he offered her nothing, she would be angry, yet whatever he offered would not be enough to please her. How much did she want?

_Latra Posae was never happy unless she was in control,_ Lews Therin said forlornly. _Even when her plan failed, she refused to compromise. She wouldn't help me! She hated seeing anyone follow me. She hated taking orders even worse, no matter from whom, but was even worse with me! She always wanted to be the one in command…to make all the decisions. Everything I supported, she opposed. Always!_

"Sounds like Egwene," Rand muttered to himself. He looked up to see if anyone had noticed, and was relieved to see Mat and Elnore were still absorbed in discussion. Only Lan noticed his comment, but he showed no reaction. Thankfully.

"…can just go get them," Elnore was saying, though now she was sprawled in a chair with her legs thrown over one of the arms. "Better for them to be in Murandy than with the Aes Sedai, anyway. Being thrown in a snake pit would be better than having to deal with Aes Sedai."

Rand stifled a cough at her comment. Subtlety was something this girl lacked, but her feelings on the matter matched his; given a choice between Aes Sedai and a snake pit, Rand would choose the snake pit as well. Snakes would, no doubt, prove far easier to handle.

Before either of them could speak again, Rand cleared his throat and said, "Very important points all, and we will discuss them at greater length, later. But you both must be tired and would probably like to rest and clean up." Both Elnore and Mat had brought up some problems he would need to address, but they would not be of much help while they were full of drink. As for Egwene…Rand would figure out what to do about her later, perhaps after getting a bit more information from Elnore. There was quite a bit he intended to ask the girl once he got her alone. And once she was sober.

He turned his gaze to the girl as he continued, "I'm pleased to have you both here by my side." Hopefully that would help her feel at ease. She appeared to be somewhat flustered, and he was not entirely certain it was due to the drink she had consumed. Mat really should have had more sense than to get the girl drunk! "I must deal with the Aes Sedai you have brought me, then Lan and I have meetings we must attend. We will meet later to plan our next steps."

"But I'm not tired," Elnore objected with a slight frown, reminding him vaguely of a child who was being sent to bed. Fighting the urge to laugh—something he hadn't had much reason to do lately—Rand fixed her with a stern look and was surprised when she let out a resigned sigh and mumbled, "Fine. I'm going." Her gaze went to Mat as she started toward the door. "Where can we, uhh, rest?" Given the way she phrased it, Rand had the distinct impression she had no intention of resting at all. "Are there free rooms? Or should we just—"

Her questions were interrupted when the door was flung open. In an instant, a bright glow appeared around her. Even if he had not been wearing the _ter'angreal_ bracelet she had given him, he would have known she was holding the True Source. He felt so cold that his skin burned. Light! Holding that much _saidar_ she could have easily obliterated the man who crossed the threshold. Normally, he would have attributed it to the fact that she was nervous, but her fierce expression was proof enough that she was not nervous at all. That she moved, as quickly as a cat, to put herself between him and the intruder… Light, this was about _him_. Protecting him. Fighting for him. That realization caused him to lose himself in his thoughts yet again; this girl was quite a weapon, one that, as much as he hated himself for considering it, he was going to have to use.

_We should let her deal with Cadsuane…_

Though the thought was not one of Lews Therin's worst ideas, Rand ignored it. "This is Davram Bashere, Elnore," he said calmly, offering no more than the man's name.

The girl nodded, and after she let out a reluctant sigh the glow around her disappeared. So she knew Davram, did she? No. Had she recognized the man, she wouldn't have been so ready to attack him. But she knew his name. Had he died during Tarmon Gai'don? _Would_ he? "I'm Elnore…" Trailing off, she grimaced. Rand understood; she couldn't very well tell Bashere her full name without causing an uproar, so instead of saying anything else, she merely held her hand out to the man. They would have to find a solution to that problem, though. Unless he kept her hidden people would, no doubt, inquire more about her. They would also likely have questions about why she resembled Nynaeve so much.

Eyeing her, Bashere took her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "A pleasure," he told her with a small smile, before facing Rand. "The scouts have just returned with news of the Borderland army." He drew in a deep breath, his expression grim. "They've made it past Caemlyn and are headed to Murandy. They seem to be under the impression that you're there."

Rand nearly let out a relieved sigh. He knew he would have to meet with them sooner or later, but with them headed to Murandy he would have more time to attend to other business. He had told Lan as much earlier when the man demanded to know why he was ignoring the Borderlands to play games, as he called it, with the Seanchan. It was difficult to make him understand that he was not ignoring them at all. There were simply too many other problems that needed his attention and he had hoped that, of all those he needed to deal with, the Borderland leaders would be the most inclined to ally with him. After all, those who lived in the Borderlands craved peace more than anyone. Besides, it wasn't his fault that the Borderland leaders had seen fit to drag their armies far from the Blight, leaving their lands and people virtually unprotected. What sort of fools would even consider doing such a thing?

"Did your scouts happen to report how many Aes Sedai are traveling with the Borderlanders?"

All eyes in the room fell on Elnore as soon as she voiced the question, though for different reasons. Bashere, for the first time since Rand had known the man, seemed shaken. He was not alone. "How did you… No, they didn't give a number. They just said there were Aes Sedai. I can ask if—"

"There are thirteen," she interrupted, turning to Rand. "I know I don't need to tell you the threat that poses."

Elnore's declaration turned Rand's blood to ice. No, there was no need for her to explain the threat. No one ever needed to explain the threat the Aes Sedai posed to him. _We must kill them! _Lews Therin raged in his mind. _The Aes Sedai must be dealt with once and for all! _It was not Lews Therin's insane chatter that made Rand's fists clench at his sides, though. No, it was the memories of the box. Of the beatings. Galina's hateful eyes taunted him even now. She and Katerine had been the worst, even worse than Erian. No! He would _not_ be trapped again! He would kill or die before he let that happen. The thought caused him to grasp _saidin_ and the dizziness came almost immediately. A face flashed in his mind, the dark-haired man he had seen in Shadar Logoth, and he wavered. So close. The man was so close Rand felt as though, if he moved another hair, he could touch him. Bashere's voice was distant, demanding to know how the girl could know what she claimed, but Rand did not doubt her. He could not afford to doubt her. The face became clearer as he drew more on _saidin, _and it felt like he was drifting closer to the man. Further from everything else. It was Elnore's cool hand on his arm that acted as an anchor, though, holding him there.

"Thirteen of the women are Aes Sedai, Lord Bashere. None with that group can be trusted. Not yet. First they must be brought to heel." Her voice softened as she turned to Rand. The look she gave him was nothing short of desperate and something in her eyes told him she knew. She knew about the box, about the torture. She knew his fears. Worse, she had her own fears about the Aes Sedai with the Borderland leaders. Had they done something to her as well? Or had those women caught him again? Even wrapped in the Void, he could not stop the tremors that were ripping through his body. "You cannot allow them to keep searching for you, Rand. The longer you wait, the more chance of…" She shuddered visibly, which in turn caused Rand's fists to tighten further. "Better to catch them off guard and be the one in control. Please…they must be dealt with today. Swiftly and decisively. I'll help you. Any way I can."

Her words echoed in his mind, battling with Lews Therin's endless ramblings. The man was in a rage, determined that no Aes Sedai would touch him again. Rand tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore him. He let out a long breath, looking to Mat. His friend was on his feet now, no doubt due to the mention of Aes Sedai, and considering Elnore as if he were planning something big. Lan, whose visage was normally inhumanly impassive, appeared to boil with emotion and uncertainty as he stared unblinkingly at Elnore. And then there was Davram, studying Elnore as though she were a Stones piece fit for sacrifice towards an ultimate goal.

In a room of familiar faces, Rand ultimately set his gaze upon the person he knew least. Elnore was nervously awaiting a response. She was clearly aware of the other watchful eyes in the room as she nervously chewed her lower lip. In that moment she looked more like Nynaeve than not, regardless of her attire and lack of a braid in her hair. An idea formed and his gaze quickly moved back to Mat, whose growing smile made Rand wonder if their thoughts were the same. They could definitely use this girl.

"Rand should have his own Aes Sedai advisor at that meeting," Mat announced, voicing Rand's own thought. "All the better if she bears a face from his childhood." As Mat laid out his plan, not one person interrupted him. Rand could not have planned it better himself, and though he had been thinking along the same lines as Mat, Mat's strategy was flawless. Before it was all done, though, Elnore offered her own twist to the plan. Her bold idea brought a wide grin to Mat's lips, but Rand truly expected an outburst from Lan as soon as she finished speaking. Surprisingly, it never came. Perhaps it was due to being in the presence of two _ta'veren_, or perhaps it was because Rand was finally dealing with the Borderland leaders, but whatever the reason, Lan reluctantly nodded his assent and their preparations resumed.

There was much work to do before the meeting began. By the time night fell, though, the Borderlands would be one less problem for him to deal with. Of that much, he was certain.

* * *

Adelorna did not bother turning when she heard the door open. She knew who it was. She had sensed him coming.

"Ferane Sedai and the other Ajah Heads are waiting downstairs in the private room," Rahnar told her quietly, closing the door to their room at The Tremalking Splice. All but the Blue and Red, he meant. When she failed to acknowledge his statement, he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Are you all right?"

Not responding, she leaned back against him. It was not as though he needed an answer, not when the bond allowed him to sense everything she was feeling. The Creator's truth, how could she be all right? Elaida was effectively destroying the White Tower, stone by stone. No other Amyrlin, to Adelorna's knowledge, had demoted sisters to the status of novice! No other Amyrlin had dared attempt half of the things Elaida had already gotten away with. Thanks to that woman, no one at the Tower was happy. Worse, no one felt safe. That, perhaps, was what had driven Adelorna and the other Ajah heads to take action.

Attempting to oust one's leader in the midst of a rebellion was unheard of. To do so might strengthen the rebels. And it was all too possible that the Reds would rebel when they deposed Elaida. What then? Having the Tower split in two was bad enough, but doing something to cause it to split further could mean its permanent destruction. Yet, if they did nothing, Elaida would ensure its destruction anyway. There were only three choices—leave Elaida in place while praying the rebels would return and she would not manage to any more damage, accept that child as Amyrlin, or oust Elaida and replace her with someone more acceptable. It was all too clear to Adelorna and the others that leaving Elaida in place would eventually bring about an even greater disaster than they already had, and accepting that child—when, from reports Adelorna had received, it was obvious that the girl was just as power hungry and bothersome as Elaida—was simply replacing one problem with another. Truthfully, accepting the girl could prove an even worse choice than Elaida, considering her age. That left only one choice…

"Adelorna," Rahnar said softly, breaking the silence, "you mustn't worry so."

"I just want this done. The sooner Elaida is deposed, the better for all of us." But at what cost? That was what truly bothered her. It was one thing to depose an Amyrlin; it was quite another to obtain assistance from an outside source to see it done. There was little choice, though. They had to have proof of every last bit of Elaida's machinations. They had to have indisputable proof of her treason, and if that meant negotiating with… She resisted the urge to shudder, unable to finish the thought.

In some respects what she and the others were doing was akin to making a deal with the Dark One. That was how most sisters at the Tower would see it, at least. At worst they would decide it was treason. The irony was not lost on her; committing treason to oust a treasonous Amyrlin would be laughable under other circumstances. Yet, Tarmon Gai'don was quickly approaching—the ghosts that had been seen wandering the Tower was proof enough of that, even if she chose to ignore the other signs—and for that, the Tower had to be whole. The al'Thor boy was necessary to win the Final Battle, but he could not do it alone. He could not do it without the full strength of the White Tower supporting him.

Rahnar's fingers stroked the muscles along her neck, urging her to relax a bit. "I hate seeing you so tense." His hot breath tickled her ear, making her shiver slightly. "If this concerns you so, I cannot understand your insistence to do it."

"Elaida must be removed. The Tower cannot survive her idea of leadership." She drew in a deep breath, wishing things could be different. She may as well have wished for wings, though.

"But why in this manner, Adelorna?" His concern pulsed through the bond, but even without it she could see it reflected in his eyes. "This man is—"

"I know," she interrupted calmly. "But dealing with him now may solve two of our problems at once. You know I discussed it at length with the others, and we all agreed." Ferane had not exactly agreed, she supposed. But resignation, while not being equal to agreement, bore the same result. "I will probably become one of the most renowned Aes Sedai in history. I'm just not certain whether it will be because I accomplish something great or because someone slits my throat in my sleep to stop me." It was true; what she was doing with the help of the other Ajah heads was unprecedented, for a number of reasons. It would either finally mend the White Tower, ultimately strengthening it in a way none would have ever suspected, or it would completely destroy it. She prayed it was not the latter.

"That will never happen as long as you have Kylan, Ividor, and I watching your back." Rahnar turned her in his arms, a fond smile on his face. "And your front." She chuckled before he kissed her; he was taking full advantage of being alone with her, not that she took issue with it. She never allowed him to be so forward in front of others, especially Kylan. The boy, only recently bonded, was too young to understand the complexities of an Aes Sedai's relationship with her Warders, though he was beginning to learn. The difference was that Rahnar, like Adelorna herself, was from Saldaea. Matters between men and women were different in her homeland, and her relationship with Rahnar reflected those differences. Though she cared for, and valued, all three of her Warders, Rahnar was the only one with whom she could still have some piece of home. For that, she was thankful.

As usual with Rahnar, time passed quickly. Too quickly, in truth. The quick knock at the door that separated them made her sigh, if only inwardly. "Come," Adelorna said, straightening the bodice of her dress.

Ferane stepped inside, looking as though she were being summoned to her death. It was a good thing she was not leading this meeting. They could not afford to fail. "He's here. It seems he decided to show several hours early as well, and he brought the men…and women…you requested. Kylan and Ividor are keeping him company. Should we make him wait until sundown as planned? Or shall we get it over with?"

She nodded and turned to Rahnar again. "Let us see this done."

By the time they got downstairs and walked into the back room where everyone was waiting, Adelorna's unease was gone. Several problems would be resolved if this meeting went well. She just had to ensure it did.

Jesse, Suana, and Serancha were all sitting, their spines straight and stiff, on the same side of the long table. Across from them were six men, as well as the two Aes Sedai, one Red and one Green, they had brought with them. Ferane quietly, and somewhat woodenly, took a seat as well. One man leaned back in his seat, his mouth crooking into a semblance of a condescending smile. Even if she had not recognized him, his hooked nose and high cheekbones would have marked him as Saldaean. He was handsome, despite his pompous air, and his voice was smooth when he spoke. "Adelorna Sedai, I presume?"

"Yes," she answered as she reached the empty seat across from his, looming over everyone for a moment before she too took a place at the table. Somehow she managed to stifle the urge to sigh and, instead, spoke in a steady voice, "Thank you for coming, Mazrim."


	6. Chapter 5 Negotiations

_**Chapter 5**_

_**Negotiations**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

The sun had begun to wane when Rand, Mat, Lan, and Elnore entered the large meeting hall at the Pendaloan Estate. With only a few reservations, Rand settled into the high-backed chair at the head of the long table and proceeded to wait. The Borderland leaders would be arriving soon.

It had taken a great deal of effort to ready things so quickly. As Mat had suggested, an embassy of Asha'man and Aes Sedai—the ones who had sworn fealty to him—had been sent to intercept the Borderland leaders and their army in southern Andor. Having them form circles had been Elnore's idea, mainly because she had expected trouble from the thirteen Aes Sedai the Borderlanders had with them, and her suspicions had turned out to be correct. After a bit of struggle, all thirteen Aes Sedai had been shielded, separated, and taken to the Wise Ones for questioning. The Aiel had done an excellent job of detaining the rest of the army while Bashere and his men had stayed out of sight. That had been a good move, Rand knew. If Tenobia had seen Bashere, there would have been trouble. More trouble. He did not delude himself into believing his 'guests' would appreciate what had happened, much less what _would_ happen. He had given his men strict orders: only the Borderland leaders themselves would be allowed to come to Tear. Only the Borderland leaders would be allowed to get anywhere near Rand. All of them—Mat, Elnore, Bashere, the Maidens, even Lan—had seen to that. Now, as he sat at the head of the long table with Lan to his left and Mat to his right, he was glad they had all been together to implement this plan. He wondered, briefly, what Cadsuane would have thought of what they were doing. Really, her opinion didn't matter. He would do what he must.

Drawing in a silent breath, Rand allowed his gaze to drift to Elnore. Dressed in one of Nynaeve's green silk dresses, her long black hair braided and the red _ki'sain_, as she named it, painted in the middle of her forehead, anyone could have easily mistaken her for Nynaeve. But now that he knew who she was he could never make that mistake again, even when she was _trying_ to look like Nynaeve. She had even done something to her eyes, a weave of Illusion he supposed. Instead of being their normal icy blue color, they were now brown, like her mother's eyes. Those brown eyes turned to him and she grimaced as she tugged on the neckline of the dress. "I feel like I'm strangling to death," she muttered, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. The declaration earned her a glare from Lan and a chuckle from Mat. Even Rand smiled. The dress she claimed to be strangling her was cut low, showing quite a bit of her ample bosom. Granted, it wasn't quite as low or as the strange leather top she had been wearing before, but it was far from modest. For some reason the girl hated wearing dresses and had been quite vocal about that fact even as she was agreeing to Mat's plan.

Complain though she did, she had happily agreed to do whatever necessary to help him. Surprisingly, so had Lan. He too had changed clothes and was now clad in black breeches and a dark green coat with small golden cranes embroidered on the sleeves. Rand was thankful they had found a woman in the manor that was good with a needle; Elnore had insisted on the details of his coat but she herself had admitted that, like her mother, she could not sew a stitch. The woman had a done a perfect job on Lan's coat, but it was his manner that proved his royal blood. It was as though he had finally accepted the title to which he was born. Lan Mandragoran was very much a king.

Taking a deep breath, Rand resisted the urge to look behind him. He knew what was there…the Golden Crane banner to the right, next to the banners of Illian, Cairhien, and Tear, then finally, the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai. All were part of Mat's scheme. Though Mat had been the one to detail the idea for them, he had not intended on taking a part in it. His presence was Elnore's doing; she had insisted that, as one of Rand's generals, not only should he be there but he should be dressed for the occasion. Mat had balked, of course, but the girl had talked him into it without much effort. Neither of them looked too happy about it now, however.

"When this is done, we're going to find a bloody drink," she muttered at Mat. Rand glared at her, noting Lan did the same. Truth be told, she was likely still half drunk from before. Her gaze drifted to Rand and she wrinkled her nose sheepishly and tugged on the neckline of her dress again.

Light, if the bloody woman sat there fidgeting throughout the whole meeting this would never work. Glaring harder at her, Rand snapped, "Stop pulling on the dress, Elnore. You—"

"Nynaeve." The grin she flashed him was insolent, though it quickly became apologetic under his withering glare. It was odd how she reacted to his anger. Instead of fear, she displayed sheepishness, just as she did at that moment. "Well if you call me the wrong name during the meeting it would be bad. Very bad."

_She has a point. _Rand nearly groaned when he heard Lews Therin's voice. That was not what he needed right now. The man continued ranting in his mind, going on about the difference between wants and needs. It was making Rand's head throb.

"Rand, are you all right?" the girl asked, her delicate features creasing with concern.

Forcing a smile, he nodded. There was too much that could go wrong at this meeting. The certainty he had felt earlier started fading. Between Elnore's apparent inability to behave like her mother, Mat's obvious annoyance over having to be there, and Lan's discomfort at having raised the Golden Crane banner, this whole event was a disaster in the making. Rand had a good mind to call it off, but just as he was about to voice that thought, he realized it was too late. His guests had arrived. _This had better work._

Rand let out a silent breath as the doors to the anteroom opened and in filed a very angry group of Borderland leaders. Although he had never met them, he knew who they were. Lan had described each of them in great detail.

"I do not know who you think you are, boy," a tall, beak-nosed woman—Queen Tenobia—began. "You have a lot of nerve taking—"

Rand opened his mouth to stop the queen's tirade, but Elnore spoke first. "This is no boy, Tenobia. This is Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn, He Who Comes With the Dawn, the _Car'a'carn_, Coramoor, King of Illian, and conqueror of Tear and Cairhien. The First of Mayene, Berelain, has sworn fealty to him already, as has Queen Alliandre of Ghealdan. Today, the king and queen of Malkier have pledged their allegiance to him as well." The last three declarations almost made him raise an eyebrow. Almost. What did she know of Alliandre? He gave himself a mental shake in order to focus on the scene before him. Questions for Elnore would have to wait until later.

The four Borderland leaders were nearly choking on their tongues. Elnore, however, merely continued after only a slight pause. "So, Queen Tenobia, before you threaten the Lord Dragon and begin a war I am certain you do not want, please have a seat. All of you…please sit. You have traveled far for this meeting, so it would be in our best interest to make it as pleasant as possible. I would like to believe _some_ of us here have the manners to discuss things civilly." Though her tone was dryly acrid, she appeared every bit the queen…every bit the Aes Sedai she was pretending to be.

The Queen of Saldaea blushed pink, but when King Easar chuckled, the pink darkened to red. Still, the four leaders did as Elnore suggested without comment.

Once they had all settled into their chairs, Elnore spoke again, her tone as cool as a brisk fall evening. "I believe formal introductions are appropriate. Queen Tenobia of Saldaea, King Easar of Shienar, King Paitar of Arafel, and Queen Ethienelle of Kandor…" She nodded at each ruler in turn before glancing back at Rand. "I have already introduced the Lord Dragon, of course. This"—she gestured to Mat—"is General Matrim Cauthon, one of the Lord Dragon's most trusted allies." Finally she paused, placing a hand gently on Lan's arm. That, Rand knew, was his cue.

"And this," Rand offered, gesturing to Lan and Elnore, "is al'Lan Mandragoran and el'Nynaeve ti al'Meara Mandragoran, king and queen of Malkier."

His announcement was met with dead silence. All four of the Borderlanders stared blankly at Lan and Elnore until finally King Easar's eyes drifted to the banners behind Rand. "You raised the Golden Crane banner," the king stated quietly, looking back to Lan. "Why now?"

Lan met the man's gaze without pause. "The days of Tarmon Gai'don draw near, and the Lord Dragon must have armies to win the battle against the Shadow. He has my full support, and he will have that of my army as well." There was only the slightest of hesitations as he spoke. Rand knew the man had not wished to raise an army, but had he refused to raise the Golden Crane, Mat's plan would have been pointless.

"You have not been to the Borderlands to announce this." Easar's comment sounded vaguely like a challenge, one the Warder did not miss.

"It was a recent decision." Lan's gaze drifted to Elnore briefly before returning to Easar. "That you all left the Borderlands nearly defenseless when you began this journey made the decision somewhat easier." The accusation made all four visitors pale.

"There are tens of thousands who would be honored to fight under the Golden Crane banner," Elnore pointed out. "Those men will fight to defeat the Shadow under the True Blood of Malkier, and they will fight for the Lord Dragon. Just as we do."

Queen Tenobia reddened, leaning forward. "This is an outrage! We will not be bullied or coerced into following you! Who do you think you are sending your channeling men after us? Capturing our Aes Sedai advisors? Stopping our honor guard with your Aiel savages! You have some nerve—"

"_You_ are the ones who crossed the land to bully a man who has, thus far, left you alone," Elnore interrupted somewhat hotly, not giving Tenobia or anyone else a chance to deny the accusation. "And Aes Sedai advisors?" She snorted disdainfully. "You bring thirteen Aes Sedai here, fully intending to use them to control the man who must find a way to defeat the Dark One. Are you so bloody arrogant that you believe you have the knowledge and experience to fight not only the Forsaken, but also the Dark One himself? The Lord Dragon, as you well know, has already bested several of the Forsaken. How many Forsaken have _you_ battled? None. That's how many." Tenobia tried to object, but Elnore's onslaught did not slow. "You bring an army to _his_ lands to conquer him and his, but you wish to cry foul when he disrupts your plans in an effort to offer you a truce? It seems to me that _you_ are the ones who are the bullies, not him." She stared Tenobia down until the Queen averted her gaze. However the girl claimed to loathe Aes Sedai, she certainly imitated them well.

Queen Ethenielle turned her attention to Rand. "We merely wanted protection, as well as advice, should the need arise."

Elnore turned her attention to the other queen, primly folding her hands on the table. The anger emanating from her was palpable, and it was for that reason that Rand almost stopped her before she addressed Ethenielle's comment. "Two Aes Sedai are protection, thirteen is declaring war on a man who can channel. And you know it. You sit here and calmly lie to our faces. Have you all taken lessons from the Aes Sedai you brought with you to conquer him or do you simply take us for fools? You cannot possibly expect—"

"El…Nynaeve." The girl turned toward him when he interrupted her, an amused eyebrow raised at his slip. Luckily no one else noticed. And, with any luck, they would believe her outburst regarding the Aes Sedai was due to the Tower split. "I believe what el'Nynaeve is trying to say is that your approach was hostile. You sent no message requesting an audience with me, as is proper in such circumstances. Furthermore, I am certain you know the significance of the number of Aes Sedai you brought with you. That, in itself, would make me believe you intended me harm. Finally, you brought a considerable military force with you. Any leader in his right mind would assume you meant to attack." He looked at each of the Borderlanders in turn. "My first instinct was to send my forces to deal with all of you. You should consider yourselves lucky I had enough respect for al'Lan and el'Nynaeve to meet with you first."

Giving him an awkward look, King Paitar finally took the opportunity to speak. "Lord Dragon, Ethenielle speaks the truth. Two things prompted us to seek you out, the first of which was that you had all but ignored the Borderlands. Tarmon Gai'don is rapidly approaching, and our lands will be the first defense against Shadowspawn. The war will begin there. Certainly you know that."

Rand gave a slight nod, then glanced at Lan when he felt the Warder's hard gaze on him. That Paitar was voicing the same concern Lan had mentioned recently was not lost on him. Why could they not understand that the Borderlands were the least of his worries? Between the Seanchan, the Aes Sedai, and the Forsaken he did not see the need to focus on an area that was not yet a problem!

"That concerned us greatly," Paitar continued calmly. "But word of your conquests also traveled quickly, and we thought it best to come to you before you finally decided to come to us. We did not want our lands damaged or sent into turmoil from an attack. Perhaps we chose the wrong way to handle it, but certainly you understand the desire to be cautious."

"Cautious?" Elnore repeated before anyone else had a chance to respond. Though Rand could still sense her anger, her tone was dry. Serene. It surprised him. "Dragging your entire army and thirteen Aes Sedai across the land to confront one man is merely being…cautious? Do you burn your palace down to clear it of one biteme just to be cautious as well?" Her question caused Mat to laugh out loud, but she kept her gaze trained on the Borderlanders. "You know as well as I that you thought to threaten the Lord Dragon, to find a way to control him and make him dance on your strings. He has a duty to fulfill, and he cannot do it if he is caged and controlled by Aes Sedai." None dared deny what they intended now, not after Elnore called them on it. They had effectively been put on the defensive, which was exactly where Rand wanted them. "For a group that claims such concern about your homelands, you certainly didn't think twice about leaving them defenseless. All for the purpose of bullying or manipulating the Lord Dragon." She stopped only long enough for a short breath. "This is no time for Borderlanders to try their hands at _Daes_ _Dae'mar_. The situation is simple, yet you try to complicate it by attempting to intimidate the man who is meant to save us all from the Dark One." All four leaders were watching her now. Waiting. They did not have to wait long. "There are two choices here—three if you consider the Shadow a choice. You can either fight in the Lord Dragon's name voluntarily, still able to hold your lands and continue your traditions as you see fit, or you will be conquered by the Seanchan, in which case your lands and your people will become property of the Seanchan Empire."

"The Seanchan will neither respect nor continue Borderland traditions and customs," Lan added calmly, though Rand thought he might have heard just a bit of emotion in his tone. "What happened to Malkier when it was overrun by the Blight will happen to your lands when they are overrun by the Seanchan. Your customs will die…your people will scatter amongst the other lands to escape those who invade, and your rule will be conditional on your servitude to the Seanchan Empire. You will be forced to kneel to the Empress, to follow their rules and their customs or you will be executed so a more agreeable leader can take your place. Even if you keep your position, you will have no real power. You will be a figurehead, nothing more." He paused long enough for his words to be absorbed. "I fail to see how anyone, in good conscience, could stand by and allow the Seanchan to invade their land while another option remains."

"You call being invaded by Aiel and men who can channel a preferable option?" Tenobia spat.

"You will not be invaded if you agree to ally yourselves with me," Rand answered, meeting the woman's eyes.

King Easar snorted loudly. "It seems to me our only choice is which empire we choose to serve. Yours or the Seanchan's."

Rand's expression remained as cold as stone. "If that is how you wish to see it. Either way, those are your options."

"I will not turn my lands over to you or your Aiel to plunder," Queen Ethienelle declared matter-of-factly. "I will—"

"I do _not_ want your lands!" Rand roared, slamming his fist on the table. "But I _do_ need your armies. And I, or the Seanchan, will have them, one way or another." He drew in a deep breath, letting his gaze fall on each of the visitors in turn. "Since it is clear none of you wish to discuss this rationally, I will make it simple…sign a treaty with me _today_ and you will continue to rule your lands as you see fit. Your resources will be yours. Your armies will continue to report to their own generals, who will in turn report to Davram Bashere. Bashere will report to me. If you refuse to sign the treaty, you will be sent home immediately, but your army, and the thirteen Aes Sedai you brought with you, will remain here under _my_ control. Eventually, either the Seanchan or I _will_ come to your lands and take them from you and you will be deposed."

"You are insane!" It was not surprising when Tenobia tried to interject her displeasure, but Rand would not have it.

"That may well be," Rand growled, "but the Shadow is growing stronger, and the time for battling the Dark One is nearing. I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with your ridiculous demands and childish tantrums. The choices have been laid before you. It is time for all of you to choose sides. I want your answers. _N__ow_."

* * *

Allowing the gateway he'd just stepped through to snap closed behind him, Logain strode towards Lord Algarin's manor. In all truth, he was in no hurry to return.

Two days before, when al'Thor had ordered him to meet with the Sea Folk to have them send supplies to Bandar Eban, he had been reluctant to go. At the time, he had believed the reason was due to a hesitance to leave his Warders behind but, had he been honest with himself, he would have admitted his reluctance was due to the fact that taking orders from al'Thor rankled. Every time the man told him what needed to be done, Logain felt a flash of anger. That al'Thor's orders were good ones did not help the situation. If anything, it made the matter worse.

Oddly, Logain knew he would have liked the man under other circumstances. There were times, rare as they were, that al'Thor displayed a wry humor that mirrored Logain's own thoughts. He seemed to be a good man, really, as well as a good leader, but he lacked control. Part of the problem was his youth, Logain was certain, yet there were times he wondered if al'Thor had suffered too much from the taint. But no, that was not al'Thor's problem. His problem was that he was a Light-burned fool at times, especially where the Black Tower and the Asha'man were concerned. No matter how many times or how many ways Logain broached the subject, al'Thor refused to discuss it.

Of course, al'Thor believed Logain's complaints were born only from a desire to take Taim's place as the Black Tower's leader. In truth, Logain _did_ want to take Taim's place, but that was not the primary reason for his concern. Taim was a dangerous man, and what he was doing to the Asha'man would ultimately result in the Black Tower's ruin. Teaching men that their sole purpose in life was to be used as _saidin _wielding weapons bordered on insanity. The way Taim's most loyal followers were trained was even worse, though; those men reeked of darkness. Of evil. Of death. And Taim was the darkest of the lot. Even if al'Thor refused to acknowledge that darkness, he should have been concerned that men who should be loyal to _him_ were, instead, loyal to Taim. But al'Thor seemed to have little care _where_ the Asha'man's loyalties lay, even the ones he kept close to him.

Though he sometimes made biting comments about Logain having bonded Gabrelle and Toveine, the fool man had no problems with Narishma, Damer, and Karldin being little more than Aes Sedai lapdogs. What good were the bloody men when, to get them to do anything, al'Thor had to first practically beg for cooperation from their bond holders?

Logain's jaw tightened at the thought. Narishma was, by far, the worst of the three. Or, rather, Merise was the worst of the three Aes Sedai who had claimed Asha'man as Warders. The woman was a controlling witch! She treated Narishma like little more than an unintelligent pet, and though the boy had acted out on more than one occasion he always ended up doing what Merise told him. Logain had the distinct feeling that Merise beat the boy when he dared show that he had a spine. More than once, with just the snap of her fingers, Merise had sent Narishma scurrying into a corner like a recalcitrant child. No grown man should behave that way! And no woman should get by with treating a man with such disrespect and utter domination. The Light blind him, Merise had even taken away Narishma's Dragon Pin once she realized al'Thor had been the one to give it to him. As though she had the right! That it signified a rise in status was unimportant; all that mattered was that Narishma had received something from a hand other than _hers_. Narishma had thrown a bit of a fit about it and, eventually, Merise had relented and had given him the pin. First, however, she had forced him to acknowledge that the pin had come from her rather than al'Thor, as though she had the right to name a man Asha'man herself!

Logain couldn't fathom any man agreeing to be treated in such a way, especially a man who was capable of crushing the one who was doling out such treatment! That she was trying to break the boy, much as one would a wild horse, was apparent to everyone except al'Thor. Light. Try? The fact was, Narishma was already broken; he just didn't seem to realize it yet.

Logain had tried to get al'Thor to see the truth of it, to make him see how dangerous it was to leave Narishma, or any Asha'man, under the authority of Aes Sedai. Al'Thor refused to listen to reason, however. He thought of the Asha'man as weapons, nothing more, so what did he care if they were practically owned by flaming Aes Sedai? It sickened Logain. Besides, didn't the fool man realize that, if the Asha'man were naught but Warders to the Aes Sedai, he would never be able to give a direct order to the men? Logain had already seen that problem with Narishma—al'Thor issued an order to the boy, only to have Merise interfere, insisting that al'Thor _ask_ her if he needed Narishma to do anything for him. As far as Logain was concerned, Narishma should not be allowed to wear the Dragon Pin. He was not fit to be an Asha'man, not as long as Merise had him on her leash. In truth there were a number of men who held the rank of Asha'man who did not deserve the title. It was no coincidence that that line of thinking caused his thoughts to return to Mazrim Taim.

With a sigh, Logain stopped walking and leaned against the outside wall of the manor. The Black Tower had such potential. It could easily rival the White Tower…best it, if Logain had his way. He felt—no, he prayed—that Min's viewing of him meant that the Black Tower, and the Asha'man, would rise in the world. The power and glory she had said was in his future could mean one of a great many things, yet leading the Black Tower appealed to him more than any other future he could imagine. Given the opportunity, he knew he could make the people of the Westlands not only _trust_ the Asha'man, but respect and admire them as well. Everything the White Tower _should_ be, the Black Tower _could_ be. If only al'Thor could see it. If only he cared.

That Taim had turned the Black Tower into a travesty, raising only those whose loyalty was to him and him only, was a problem even al'Thor should recognize, even if he refused to acknowledge the other problems. Why al'Thor could not see the danger that posed was beyond Logain's comprehension. He often wondered if it was that bloody Aes Sedai's influence. Cadsuane bloody Melaidhrin. She would love to see the Black Tower fall into ruin, even if it meant al'Thor had fewer men that were truly loyal to him. Especially if it meant that, actually. The flaming woman would not be happy until every last Asha'man was turned into an Aes Sedai lapdog.

Logain had watched that old woman closely. Every time she laid eyes on an Aes Sedai who had been bonded, her jaw tightened so much that her teeth grated. It was the only emotion Logain had ever seen from her, save for her bullying. The only thing that kept him from putting her in her place was al'Thor's standing order to say nothing to the old woman. Sooner or later, though, al'Thor would undoubtedly snap. Every condescending word Cadsuane uttered at the man left him struggling to control his temper. No, it would not be long before al'Thor told that woman exactly what he thought of her. Hopefully, that would mean the end of Cadsuane's influence. It could not happen soon enough, though.

There were other ways to get rid of the woman, he supposed. Once she returned with Nynaeve and Min from wherever they had gone, he could always force Gabrelle and Toveine to spy on the woman for him. A single act of betrayal was all it would take for al'Thor to lose his temper and banish her, and Logain had no doubt the woman had done _something_ that could be considered a betrayal. The woman took manipulation to heights most Aes Sedai never dreamed. What she was doing to al'Thor was, indeed, manipulation, if a different form than what the other man was used to. Even Gabrelle admitted the truth of it, once Logain discussed the matter with her. She was amazingly free with information after a few kisses, even more so after being bedded.

His lips curled into a wolfish grin at the thought. Gabrelle, and Toveine for that matter, had taken him for a fool at first, believing all that was needed to gain the upper hand with him was to behave like some lightskirt from a hell. He had quickly disabused Gabrelle of that notion. Whatever she chose to show through expression, which was precious little, was contradicted by the flurry of emotions he felt from her through the bond. It made him wonder if the woman had ever shared a bed with a man. Whatever the truth, it did not stop her from attempting to plot against him. Against all the Asha'man, really.

Shaking his head in disgust, he pushed himself off the wall and started walking again, this time away from the manor. He was in no mood to go back to his rooms and face Gabrelle and Toveine. The two women really did take him for a fool. How could they believe, even for a second, that he wasn't aware that they were constantly plotting against him? None of the bonded Aes Sedai—save the select few who seemed genuinely happy—were content with their situation. Even if they had somehow been able to mask their true feelings from the bond, Logain would have known Gabrelle and Toveine were unhappy. The only time Gabrelle was content was after he had made love to her, and then it was more that she was incapable of forming coherent thought than contentment.

Well, whatever the Aes Sedai hoped to achieve with their plotting was of no matter. Logain had no intention of allowing them to turn Asha'man against Asha'man, even if it meant going behind al'Thor's back to hold them together. Perhaps, if—

"Logain!"

Logain spun on his heels, scowling at having his thoughts interrupted. When he saw who had addressed him, however, his irritation faded into concern. Androl Genhold, a Dedicated from Tarabon, had been a dependable ally and friend ever since the day Logain first met him. He had hated leaving Androl behind at the Black Tower within Taim's grasp, just as he had hated leaving Evin and the others, but there had been little choice. At the time, he believed joining al'Thor to be the only possible way to save the Tower. Now… "Androl," he said warily, "what are you doing here?"

"There's trouble at the Tower, Logain," Androl said, his voice strained. "It's Taim."

The news caused Logain's teeth to grate. He had warned al'Thor, but the fool had refused to so much as visit the Black Tower to check on matters. Now, looking into Androl's worried gaze, Logain had a bad feeling that it might be too late. At Androl's request, he walked away from the manor and towards the heavily wooded area nearby where other Dedicated awaited. As he stood there, listening to the men explain what had brought them there, Logain knew one thing: if al'Thor still refused to deal with Taim, then Logain would do it himself. It was time for this madness to end.

* * *

"Is this really necessary, Verin Sedai?" Amys asked as two hulking Aiel men carried Illeisien Sedai into the tent. "The _Car'a'carn_ simply ordered for them to be detained."

Verin eyed the woman for a moment before answering, "For the Borderlanders to bring thirteen Aes Sedai with them, they must have planned to capture the Lord Dragon. I would be willing to bet these women had their own plans, and if that is the case we need to know. They could pose a threat to him, Amys. A threat he should not have to face."

She shook her head at the unconscious Aes Sedai that was dumped unceremoniously on the ground. All thirteen of the Aes Sedai that had been with the Borderlanders had resorted to physical attacks once they had been shielded. Given the number of Aiel, Asha'man, and Aes Sedai Rand had sent to deal with them, it had proven a grievous error. All thirteen women had been beaten into submission before being taken to the Aiel camp in Cairhien and, unfortunately, some of their Warders had died in the battle. Well, perhaps that was not so unfortunate. Verin fully intended to use the situation to her advantage. If she could convince Amys to allow her to question all of the prisoners, she could lessen the threat to the boy even more than she already had.

Amys gestured at the two Aiel men, watching as they hurried out of the tent before she turned to Verin. "You may do as you wish. I will send someone to take over her shield when you are finished. The others have regained consciousness, and their shields are being held by the other Aes Sedai and Asha'man."

It took some effort not to let out a sigh of relief when the Wise One finally left the tent. Embracing the Source, Verin shielded the unconscious woman, shaking her head in disgust. Thirteen Aes Sedai! What were they thinking? Unfortunately, she knew exactly what they were thinking, especially these thirteen. She shuddered when she considered what could have happened had these women caught the boy unaware. She wondered, briefly, who had given the order for them to join the Borderlanders. That was a question for another time, though. She was just relieved she had the chance to protect the boy from this lot. From what she had gathered, he had been none too happy to learn that the Borderlanders had intended to confront him with thirteen Aes Sedai at their sides. Verin didn't blame him for that. Had she known about this sooner, she would have dealt with the matter herself. There was so little time, though, and so much to do.

With a sigh, she looked down at Illeisien's limp form. If the boy did not already despise Aes Sedai enough after being captured by Elaida's group, having thirteen Aes Sedai show up at once would undoubtedly send him into a never-ending rage toward any woman who could channel. When Cadsuane learned of this, she, too, would be very displeased. Her frown deepened at the thought of Cadsuane. Where had the woman gone? And why? Of all times to pick to run off on another adventure, this was the worst. Verin herself had plans, plans she now had to delay due to Cadsuane's absence.

Shaking her head, she opened herself further to _saidar_ through the carved-flower _angreal_ in her pouch. She began the same weave she had used on the sisters that had been captured at Dumai's Wells. The weave was always easier to use when the woman was unconscious. When Illeisien awoke, she would never even notice what was happening.

"Wake up, Illeisien," she ordered, lightly slapping the woman's bruised face. It took a great deal of effort to resist the urge to slap the woman hard enough to leave a mark.

Illeisien's head jerked up and the woman let out a pained groan. "What…Verin…what are you…"

"Something to help you." Verin helped the woman sit up, then held her by the shoulders to keep her from falling over. "Tell me what the Borderlanders were planning to do to al'Thor."

"Borderlanders?" she repeated, her head swaying a bit. "They wanted…to take him…to…"

"Is that why they brought thirteen Aes Sedai? To force him to go to the Borderlands?"

"Thirteen was not their choice." The satisfied smile that formed on Illeisien's face sent a chill up Verin's spine. "Coladara and I planned it. We could have captured him ourselves had you not interfered."

Glancing toward the flap of the tent, Verin continued her weave, letting it fall slowly over the woman's head. "And what would you have done with him, Illeisien?"

The woman sniffed indignantly. "You actually have to ask that? I'm surprised you haven't attempted it yourself. That boy must be brought to heel and made to obey." She shook her head, raising a hand to it when she swayed from the motion. "He cannot be allowed to run free. We must take him to…" Her words faded into a grunt when Verin needlessly twisted the weave so the other woman's head would throb worse than it was already. "He must be controlled and those Asha'man must be destroyed."

Verin drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. More arrogance. More foolishness. Did none of these women ever think before they acted? Was it beyond them to consider the repercussions of their actions? Her eyes narrowed as she intensified the weave. "Do you believe Rand al'Thor is the Dragon Reborn?" It was not surprising that Illeisien agreed vehemently. Thankfully it made what she was doing easier. Speaking in a firm voice, Verin gave her the same instructions she had given Beldeine and the rest of that group. The Aes Sedai, every last one, had to be forced to see the truth of the matter—al'Thor needed guidance, not chains. If Verin could have, she would have happily used this weave on every sister she could lay hands on. She had to make do with what she had, though. From this woman, and from those who accompanied her, all the boy needed was for them to be out of his way.

Once she was done issuing orders, she Healed the woman. She refused to Heal the woman fully, though; a bit of lingering pain might help Illeisien keep her senses. Sighing ruefully, Verin called for someone to get the woman out of her sight. There was no sense in getting angry, she knew. In the end, anger solved nothing. Still, she was growing weary of the way sisters kept behaving. At the rate the Aes Sedai were attacking al'Thor, he would soon have as many Aes Sedai as the White Tower itself.

"Did you learn anything useful, Verin Sedai?"

Verin turned at the sound of Amys' voice and nodded. "The Aes Sedai intended to capture him and force him to go to the White Tower. They planned to betray the Borderlanders, as well as the Lord Dragon."

The Wise One's face darkened in anger. Verin silently amended her previous thoughts on anger—it was actually quite useful, under some circumstances. "These women have no honor at all. They will be kept here when the Borderlanders leave. Do you still wish to question the others?"

"Yes," she answered, successfully fighting a smile. The Aiel were predictable, at least. She had counted on the Wise Ones keeping Illeisien, Coladara, and the sisters with them once they knew the Aes Sedai intended harm to al'Thor. The women would be made _da'tsang_ now. That was the best place for them; they would have no freedom, and would not be allowed anywhere near the boy until they finally found a reason to swear fealty to him. "I believe it is best if I question them all, just to make sure I did not miss something important."

Amys nodded, then motioned for another sister to be brought into the tent.

Verin sighed. If the others went as quickly as Illeisien, perhaps she could finish them all before midnight. Otherwise it would be yet another sleepless night. She had had too many of those lately. Way too many.

* * *

Adelorna resisted the urge to shiver as Taim blithely told how al'Thor had been kept in a box during his imprisonment by the embassy Elaida had sent, only taken out to be beaten mercilessly before being returned, dirtied and bloodied, to the box. It was no wonder the boy hated Aes Sedai now. What had they been thinking? It was one thing to force the boy to show respect to Aes Sedai, but to torture him in such a way was unforgivable.

"It was quite unpleasant for him," Taim concluded, his eyes showing no emotion whatsoever.

Adelorna stared blankly at the man. Surely he was joking—unpleasant was not nearly strong enough of a word to describe what had been done to that boy. She had known, when Elaida had demanded volunteers for the embassy to approach the boy, that she had intended to get him to the White Tower even if she had to force him, but this…this was unbelievable. The woman truly was mad.

Knowing it would not do to address Choleie right now, the Green sister who was sitting between two of the Asha'man, Adelorna instead turned her attention to Lemai, the Red. The woman's eyes were rimmed in red, as though she had been crying. But why? And why did Choleie have the same exact appearance? Whatever curiosity Adelorna felt about the matter was unimportant, though. She had other concerns at the moment. "And what of the attack on the Black Tower?" she asked Lemai. "How did that come to be and what were your orders?"

Lemai glanced at Taim, her dark gaze brimming with hatred, before answering, "Toveine led our party to the Black Tower. There were fifty of us and our orders, per Elaida"—the woman practically spat the Amyrlin's name—"were to gentle and hang every man there."

That statement caused an uncomfortable and angry silence to fall on the small room. With the exception of Taim, the men at the table looked ready to do murder. On Adelorna's side of the table, there was anger, but for a different reason.

Elaida had hand picked the Aes Sedai to approach the Black Tower, and though the Hall knew of her intentions to approach them, never had the pitiful excuse for an Amyrlin mentioned killing and gentling the men there. That order violated Tower law! And, while Elaida could—and would—be punished for giving the order, every woman who took part in the attack on the Black Tower clearly intended to follow that order and was, therefore, guilty of breaking Tower law as well. Toveine herself had already been exiled for such actions. When Adelorna finished with her, and the other forty-nine sisters involved in this mess, being exiled would seem like an inviting punishment.

Adelorna's accusatory gaze went to Choleie, who meekly dropped her eyes, then to Lemai. The Red did not drop her eyes, however, and instead met Adelorna's gaze with a look of defiance. The fool was lucky she had survived the ordeal, whether she realized it or not. Given the number of men at the Black Tower, the Asha'man could have killed all fifty of the sisters without breaking a sweat. Of course, that would have given Elaida all she needed to bring the full weight of the White Tower against the Asha'man. The men had been smart to bond the women, no matter how difficult it was for any Aes Sedai to consider.

"Toveine sent word to Elaida, through an agent in Cairhien," Lemai continued, "but we have heard nothing from her. It appears she has abandoned us." That the Red referred to Elaida by name, rather than her title, was no surprise. Likely, Lemai and the others would leap at an opportunity to make Elaida pay for their predicament. That was quite convenient…

"Of course she did," Adelorna said, her mouth tight. No doubt Elaida wanted to keep this blunder a secret. Well, it would not remain a secret for long. She looked to Taim. "I will need the two Aes Sedai to go back to the White Tower with me. They must testify against Elaida. I will also need written accounts regarding the events you witnessed at Dumai's Wells. From you and any others here who were there."

The blonde Asha'man, Mishraile, who was seated next to Taim cleared his throat. "I was there as well."

"Before we take pen to paper, however," Taim said, "I believe we need to agree to terms."

Exchanging a look with Serancha, the head of the Gray Ajah, Adelorna forced a small smile. "As I wrote in my letter, there are several things we can offer. First, Elaida's declaration that The Dragon Reborn is a ward of the White Tower will be rescinded. Second, we will implement a formal alliance with the Black Tower." That had been a point that had been argued between the Ajah heads, but they had finally decided it was necessary. With Tarmon Gai'don approaching, it would not do to be at war with men who could channel. Furthermore, it was much easier to keep an eye on the Asha'man if they were kept close.

All of that was disturbing, even to the ones who had decided it was necessary, but the next part was one that would shake the tower to its core. "And finally, we will change the law regarding male channelers. No longer will they be hunted by our ranks." She and the others had been careful in their wording…though male channelers would no longer be hunted, they would never be acknowledged as equals. Instead, every last man would be bonded. The only way these Asha'man could be allowed to exist was under Aes Sedai control.

"What!" Lemai practically shouted, jumping to her feet. "You cannot—"

"Sit down and stay quiet." It was Mishraile who gave the order and, surprisingly, Lemai did as he said. It occurred to Adelorna, as she watched Lemai's eyes darken, that Mishraile had bonded the woman. It was really of no matter to her, as long as Lemai gave testimony regarding Elaida's orders. Regardless, the Red had no say in anything that happened from here on out. In fact, she had better hope the Asha'man kept her with them; otherwise she would be lucky if she was only birched and sent into exile. At the moment, Adelorna could think of much worse things to do to her.

Taim smiled at the blonde Asha'man before he turned back to face Adelorna. The arrogance in his eyes would have made most kings seem humble in comparison. "Those three promises are definitely a good place to start, and they prompted me to agree to this meeting. However, there are a few more…requests…I have for our agreement." The skin at the corners of his eyes creased as his mouth curled into a superior smile. "I am certain you will find them acceptable."

"We shall see," Adelorna responded, her eyes as cold as ice. "What exactly do you want?"

"For one thing, I want the White Tower to announce that _saidin_ has been cleansed. I have no doubt you have heard the rumors of it, and those rumors are true. The world needs to know that male channelers are no longer the threat they once were."

The request was not unreasonable, and Adelorna had indeed heard the rumors. "Very well. Is that all?"

The smile that came back to Taim's face did not quite meet his eyes. "Not quite. There are just a few more things…"


	7. Chapter 6 The Calm Before

_**Chapter 6**_

_**The Calm Before**_

_**

* * *

**_

It was done.

Exchanging a grin with Elnore, Mat turned his gaze toward Rand as the last of the Borderland leaders filed out of the room. Anyone who did not know the red-haired man well would never have been able to look past his cold gray gaze and expressionless features to see what Mat saw in his old friend's eyes—complete and utter relief. Relief was a feeling that seemed to be shared at that moment, and for good reason. All four of the Borderland leaders had agreed to ally with Rand, and their armies were now his to command under the terms they had finally agreed upon. Except for another brief fit from Tenobia, which had been quickly squashed by the other Borderland leaders, it had been easy. Almost too easy, not that Mat had any complaints. At least his and Rand's _ta'veren_ nature had worked for them this time instead of against them.

"I need a bloody drink," Elnore muttered, slouching into her chair and reaching under the table. She stood a moment later with her sword belt in hand, and strapped the weapon around her waist. It hung nearly to the floor, but somehow Mat doubted she would like being told that she was too short to carry the sword. Frowning, she looked down at her skirts. "A strong one. And I need to get out of these bloody clothes before I die!"

Chuckling, Mat watched her a few moments before noticing the disapproving look Lan was directing at her. That was nothing compared to what Nynaeve's reaction would be if she heard the girl's language. Or saw her sword. Or saw her propensity for drinking. No doubt Nynaeve would try to blame _him_ for all of Elnore's undesirable habits. That was usually the way of it, though Mat could not understand why.

Lan let out a long breath. "Elnore, should you happen to impersonate Nynaeve in the future, I would appreciate you making a conscious effort to be a bit less antagonistic to strangers. My wife has enough enemies of her own. She does not need you making more for her."

"That's the Creator's truth," Mat agreed, thinking back to the day his men had died at Moghedien's hand in the Forsaken's attempt to kill Nynaeve. "Though I doubt Tenobia's wrath would be as bad as Moghedien's." Mention of the Forsaken brought a deeper scowl to Lan's stony features. Did the bloody man ever smile? "Lan, I don't think—"

"Elnore," Rand interrupted, looking to the girl appraisingly, "changing will have to wait. I need to speak to you privately."

Both Mat and Lan moved to protest, but Rand quickly made it clear he would not allow their presence. All it took was one gesture towards his study and Elnore followed without hesitation. Blood and ashes, maybe she was_ not_ Nynaeve's daughter, after all—Nynaeve never meekly agreed to anything, even if her bloody life depended on it!

Mat watched Elnore's trailing backside until he felt another pair of eyes burning into his skull. Looking back to Lan, who appeared even closer to the point of doing violence than usual, Mat stood. "Burn me! I don't intend to miss out on this." Without ceremony, he crossed the room and leapt out the nearest window onto the small ledge. Looking back through the window, he saw the protest forming on Lan's lips. "Well, are you coming? The girl is your daughter and may be the only link to your wife at the moment. I should think you would want to know what is going on in that room."

He honestly had not expected Lan to follow him—Lan really did not seem the type to eavesdrop—yet only a moment after he eased onto the ledge, he sensed motion behind him. Whether it was his _ta'veren_ nature that caused it or merely Lan's curiosity, Mat was not certain, but he could not stop himself from flashing a triumphant grin at the Warder. There was just barely enough daylight left to see the Warder's jaw tighten. "Do you plan to stand there all night?" Lan asked him blandly, looking more than a little impatient. Mat needed no more encouragement; he took the hint and started moving toward one of the windows in Rand's study.

"…don't have anything to find her with, Rand," Elnore was saying. "Mother and I have never been that close, and I think she was happy when I moved in with you and Min because then she didn't have to worry about me getting into trouble. I mean I was only fourteen but…"

Blood and bloody ashes! The girl lived with Rand and Min? Nynaeve would never allow a child of hers to be raised by anyone else! Not that Mat could picture Nynaeve as a mother. Maybe Elnore had run away to live with Rand and Min. That was definitely a possibility. The Light knew if _he_ had had Nynaeve as a mother, he would have run away. For a brief moment, Mat thought of his own mother and wondered how she was doing. Despite having no desire to return to the Two Rivers, he did miss her, as well as the rest of his family. Perhaps he would go see them soon. Knowing channelers did have some advantage, at least, such as being able to cover large distances in mere moments.

Pushing the thought away, Mat tried to focus on what Elnore was saying but the sound of Lan's teeth gnashing distracted him from the conversation. Glaring at the man had no effect, however. It appeared Lan needed a drink or two to help him to relax. It certainly could not hurt.

"…was you who rescued me from the White Tower, but I don't want to talk about that." The emotion behind her words was palpable. Perfectly understandable, he supposed. The White Tower was definitely not a place Mat would want to live. She continued prattling for a while, aimlessly jumping from one topic to the next without so much as a breath. Her pauses did not even last long enough to give Rand a chance to ask a question! Despite her gleeman's flair for telling a story, Mat began to grow agitated. There were questions he had, and none would be answered if she did not slow down long enough for someone else to speak.

"So…when…exactly is this?" she asked, her voice growing louder as he heard her near the window. "You haven't met with the Seanchan yet, have you? Good. This time things will go differently, and we'll be prepared. We have to get our hands on those male _a'dam_ and destroy them before…what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Mat's attention was diverted yet again when Lan grabbed for the window as though he were about to fall. Sneaking about was apparently not one of the man's talents. It was just as well, really. They needed to go inside and take part in the conversation instead of standing outside on a ledge missing half of what was being said. Rand obviously needed some help keeping the girl focused, anyway.

"Mat," Lan whispered, "we should go back—"

"What are you two doing up there? You're going to fall and crack your skulls!"

As a barely audible groan escaped Lan's lips, he glared down at the intruder. "Keep it down, Ablar!"

Ablar? Logain Ablar? The bloody false Dragon? Trying to keep his expression even, Mat looked down to find not one, but two dark-haired men standing below them. Instinct, rather than knowledge of either man, told him Logain was the taller one. Lan hushed Logain again, this time with a motion, before giving Mat a threatening look. Light! What was the Warder's problem _now_?

"I need to see al'Thor," Logain informed them calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is this where the line begins? I normally prefer doors…"

Before either man could answer, the window was thrown completely open and Rand stepped aside so Mat could saunter through. "About time you opened that window, Rand," Mat told his friend dryly. The room was not overly spacious, but it looked comfortable enough. Still, one would have thought a bloody lord could have provided the Dragon Reborn with a more impressive study. "How long did you intend to leave us waiting? You weren't raised in a barn, but of late your manners suggest otherwise."

Rand raised an eyebrow as Lan calmly entered from the ledge, then directed his attention back to his boyhood friend. "Mat, I thought I made it clear we wanted some privacy, and—"

"Don't worry, Rand. I couldn't hear very much. The sounds from this room were drowned out by the sound of grinding teeth out there." Mat glared pointedly at Lan as he continued, "Besides, I thought you'd want to know Logain is here. Along with some other man. Probably one of those Asha'man of yours." Mat walked past Elnore and threw himself into a chair near the spot where the girl stood. Somehow in the process he managed to tangle his feet with hers. Elnore fell and landed soundly in Mat's lap with a soft squeak that quickly turned to a giggle.

"Elnore, can I trust Logain?"

The dice began spinning in Mat's head as soon as Rand voiced the question. As Elnore opened her mouth to respond Mat bounced his leg roughly to stop her, wincing when he realized the motion had caused her to bite her tongue. Literally. Though he regretted causing her pain, stopping her was necessary; the inherent danger in Rand's question was all too obvious—Rand did not seem to trust male channelers at this point, a sound policy in Mat's mind, so if Elnore suggested that Logain was trustworthy, Rand would likely fail to listen to other important revelations she could offer. His mind made up, Mat intruded on the moment's silence. "Too much knowledge of the future can be dangerous. It can change the very future Elnore knows. This is why you were trying to protect us. Isn't it best to let time answer some questions as they come?"

The dice stopped as quickly as they started as Rand nodded and moved to the door. He spoke to the closest Maiden, "There is a visitor outside. Please show him in through the door. No more window visitors today."

The Maiden laughed. "Your Wetlander humor is odd, _Car'a'carn_. Logain is already on his way, and we will let him in through the door, as you wish."

"Logain is out there?" Elnore asked, her voice suddenly high-pitched. "Lemme up, you big oaf!"

Mat snorted at Elnore's reaction—apparently Logain had survived the battle as well and, given the way she was now struggling to get off of his lap, she was either involved with the man or wanted to be. As she tried to get up, he gave her arm a tug to pull her back to him. Somehow, though, the bloody girl completely lost her balance; she teetered for a moment, then finally fell, her backside hitting the floor with a loud thud. Mat grimaced. That had to hurt.

"Are you hurt?"

Logain beat him to the question, so Mat just sat back and turned his gaze back to the girl. What he saw caused him to choke on the laughter he tried to hide. Her normally pale cheeks were the color of wine, and as she struggled to get off the floor she only drew more attention to herself, stepping on her skirts and nearly falling on her face. Blood and ashes, Elnore was about as graceful as a bull with a burr in its backside!

She took another step, her foot apparently still on her skirts, and fell forward…right into Logain's waiting arms. The other man was smooth, Mat would give him that much. "Easy," Logain drawled, smiling wolfishly down at her. He quite obviously realized the girl was not Nynaeve, otherwise Mat doubted the man would be allowing his gaze to roam so freely over her body. Anyone who looked at Nynaeve that way was begging to be thumped. Or worse.

"My thanks, Logain," she murmured, her dignified tone contrasting greatly with her bright red cheeks and girlish giggle.

"You're quite welcome." He winked at her, which only made her giggle again. Light, she was acting like a bloody fool! "But it seems you have me at a disadvantage." Finally, he released her, letting her stand on her own. Mat was almost surprised she did not somehow manage to trip again. "You know my name, but I don't know yours."

There was only a moment's pause before she answered, "Elnore." She glanced at Rand, who looked almost on the verge of laughing himself, then left it at that as though she was not sure how much to tell him. It was understandable. Announcing where she had come from to everyone she met was a good way to end up with an arrow sticking out of her back. The thought caused Mat's brow to furrow. She would have to be very careful. If Rand did not warn her of it, then he certainly would.

"A pleasure." The Asha'man gave her an appreciative look, keeping his eyes on hers until he took her left hand and leisurely brushed his lips over her knuckles. He froze, his gaze resting on the ring on her third finger.

At first Mat was not certain why the man was fixated on her ring, but when he took a closer look, he became curious as well. The shiny silver signet ring had what appeared to be the form an animal of some sort on top. "Is that a tiger?" he muttered, surprised to hear his own voice.

"A black leopard," Logain and Elnore answered simultaneously, giving each other a sideways look.

"I see today is the day for royal symbols," Logain said dryly. His gaze went back to the ring for a moment before he looked at Rand. "I noticed the flags lined up in the other room." Despite Logain's implication that he was referring to the flags, Mat had the distinct feeling he was missing something. Well, now was not the time to dwell on it. He would ask Elnore about that ring and its meaning later.

After a moment of silence, and a look that made it clear he wished to speak to Elnore further, Logain dropped the girl's hand and turned to Rand. "There are problems at the Black Tower, problems that require your attention. Tonight, before my evening meal, Androl"—he gestured to the square fellow behind him—"showed up with twenty-eight other Dedicated. Every last one of them fled the Tower. Androl, tell him what you told me."

"Lord Dragon." Androl slapped his fist against his chest and bowed slightly as he stepped forward. "I…well, a group of us has been watching Taim and the men in his private classes." His gaze went to Logain briefly before moving back to Rand. "We suspected he might either be plotting against you or serving the Shadow. Or both. At first it was fruitless. Only those closest to Taim could get into the…palace...and those of us who were known to be Logain's…friends…were cut off even more from Taim's followers." He paused, clearing his throat. "But shortly after Logain left, a friend of Vinchova's came to the Tower. At Vinchova's prompting, he showed interest in Taim's group and managed to get them to accept him. What he learned was…disturbing."

"This is your doing, Logain, isn't it?" Rand's cold gaze went to the man in question, his tightly set jaw making it apparent what he thought of the matter. "You wanted to set Taim up. To gain power for yourself and—"

"What did he find, Androl?" Elnore interrupted, her tone gentle.

The man eyed Rand for a moment, who was still glaring at Logain as though he were contemplating murder, before turning his attention to Elnore. "Vinchova found a letter from him this morning, telling him…" Trailing off, Androl let out a long breath. "He had to swear oaths to the Dark One yesterday. He had no choice. It was either that or Taim would have killed him. Taim…all those who follow him…they serve the Shadow." He looked to Rand. "And they want you dead, Lord Dragon."

"I told you," Logain growled. "I told you and you wouldn't listen. Taim's numbers grow every day and you turn a blind eye to it! You have—"

"Give over, Logain," Rand interrupted, his tone dangerous. Mat had the sudden urge to find the door. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the middle of a battle between the two men. Foxhead medallion or not, there was too much of a chance he would get caught in the crossfire. "How do I even know this isn't some lie you had them concoct to overthrow Taim? You've been—"

"Do you have the letter, Androl?" Elnore said loudly, waiting for the man to remove it from his coat and hand it to her. "And there's more isn't there? Something that happened today?"

Again, the Asha'man nodded, albeit reluctantly. "After he was forced to swear his oaths, he told them why he had joined them." Finally, he looked back to Rand. "When we were on the practice field today, some of Taim's men attacked us. Most of us escaped, but they killed two of the other Dedicated. We stayed hidden at the Tower for a time—some of the men are married and were afraid to leave their families for fear Taim may kill them—and learned that the murders were listed as training accidents. I honestly believe those two would've been killed no matter what Nathe—Vinchova's friend—had said or done."

Rand finally turned his gaze from Logain, but his features were still set in stone. "Why?"

"Both men had bonded Aes Sedai. The women rushed to the practice field during the attack and even tried to help, but it was to no avail. Once the men were dead, Mishraile and another of Taim's men took the Aes Sedai into the palace and ordered the rest to search for us. It was the last we saw of the Aes Sedai."

"Rand," Elnore began softly, "this isn't a trick. Taim serves the Shadow and he will destroy the Black Tower—destroy any chance the Asha'man who _aren't_ sworn to the Shadow have of being trusted and free from Aes Sedai leashes—if you don't do something quickly. If they don't stay free, they won't be loyal to you. They'll turn on you and you'll end up on an Aes Sedai's leash. This isn't a pebble thrown into a pond, it's a flaming boulder."

Rand took a step toward her, towering over her menacingly. There was a wild look in his eyes, one that made Mat wish for another drink. A strong one. Elnore, for her part, did not back down. Fool girl! "Are you certain, Elnore?"

"As certain as I am that water is wet." She paused. Mat silently willed her to hold her tongue, but he knew it was pointless. In the short time he had known her, he had discovered that she could talk the paint off of a wall. Silence was not something of which she was capable. Mat got to his feet and moved closer to her. "You asked before if you could trust Logain. I think he answered that question by coming to you with this, didn't he? He didn't have to. If all that mattered to him was power, he could've dealt with it himself. Instead, he came to you because he knew you would do what's right."

If Rand had seemed menacing before, he now looked downright rabid. The red-haired man standing over Elnore was not Rand al'Thor, Mat's lifelong friend, but the Dragon Reborn. Lews Therin bloody well reborn. And he looked very much like someone who was about to do something stupid.

Elnore opened her mouth to say something else, but this time Mat quickly silenced her by tugging her hair a bit harder than was necessary. When she turned to glare at him, he shook his head and motioned for her to be quiet. Now was not the time for her to draw more attention to herself, lest Rand decide to take his anger out on her.

Crossing the room, Rand opened the door and spoke to the Maiden outside, "Send for Narishma. Tell him to come quickly and…" he paused before continuing, "instruct him to bring me my sword."

The room fell silent save for the sounds of Rand's quiet muttering. Light, was he arguing with himself? No, he was probably just cursing under his breath. Mat could hardly blame him for that; the thought of dealing with Mazrim bloody Taim was enough to make _anyone_ curse.

"Why does Narishma have _Callandor_?" Elnore asked, breaking the silence after many long minutes. "And why are you using that instead of the Choedan Kal? You haven't… I mean, it still…exists, right?"

Rand turned his gaze on the girl, a strange expression on his face. "The Choedan Kal is…not within my reach as of now. As for Narishma, he is…holding…_Callandor _for me."

"Blood and ashes, Rand, why not have someone shield you and take your blade as well?" Elnore huffed disgustedly, but winced when Rand's gaze narrowed in anger. Mat resisted the urge to smack the girl—did she not see that Rand was in a snit? The safest thing to do was to be quiet, though it was rapidly becoming apparent that Elnore rarely chose the safest course of action. That she continued in a much less confrontational tone gave Mat some hope that she had some sense in her head, however. "I just meant that you should always keep it with you. The Choedan Kal, I mean. _Callandor_…well, that is the Dragon's blade. Even if you don't use it, it should be in your possession. It's—"

"It is not for him to decide, child." Mat's gaze turned to the tall, dark-haired woman who interrupted Elnore. Her hair was pulled back tightly, making her already stern, ageless face appear harder. Given her pompous tone, he was not surprised to find that she was an Aes Sedai, but a man in black—Narishma, Mat assumed—was standing at her heels like a trained hound. He recognized the stance and the look in the boy's eyes all too well. It was the same look all Warders had. Light, what was Rand thinking? Organizing men who could channel was bad enough, but letting them be bonded by Aes Sedai was pure insanity. "You are not…" The woman trailed off, her gaze fixed on Elnore for a moment before she looked to Rand. "What is the meaning of this, boy? Why do you want _Callandor_?"

"Merise," Rand began, gesturing for Elnore to be silent when she opened her mouth to, undoubtedly, snap at the Aes Sedai, "it is none of your concern. I agreed to allow you to keep the sword when Cadsuane left, provided—"

"You _agreed_?" Merise interrupted contemptuously. "_Cadsuane_ agreed to give in to your tantrum that _Callandor_ be returned here and left in the hands of someone who could provide it to you if you needed it, but she never said you have permission to take it at will. You will not lay hands on it until you tell me exactly—"

"Bring me my sword or I will step over your corpse and take it from your rooms," Rand interrupted coldly, taking a step toward the woman. "The sword belongs to the Dragon Reborn, not to Cadsuane Melaidhrin. And certainly not to the likes of you."

"You listen to me, boy," Merise growled, her jaw tightening. Elnore took a step toward the woman and Mat's medallion turned to ice against his chest, proof enough that the girl was now holding the One Power. Likely, Merise was as well. "You are not—" Her eyes bulged and she shook. Visibly. "You _dare_ shield me, Rand al'Thor? Jahar, you—"

"Your pet is in no condition to jump to your defense, woman." Elnore's words cut through Merise's tirade like a flaming dagger, but the girl's expression had turned to stone. Despite the way her delicate features mirrored Nynaeve's, Elnore had a dangerous air about her that reminded Mat all too much of Lan Mandragoran.

"You shielded him?" Rand asked softly, smiling slightly at Elnore's nod. "He was already holding _saidin_."

Mat was not sure what Rand was getting at, but Elnore clearly understood. "He is not strong enough for that to stop me." She paused. "Not yet, anyway."

Rand eyed her for a moment. "Remove the shield and release him from the bonds of Air. He is no threat." He only waited a breath before turning his attention to Narishma. "Bring me my sword."

The boy hesitated, turning his head toward Merise. The motion caused the bells in his hair to jingle.

Rand's jaw clenched. "Elnore, fetch my sword. Merise's rooms are—"

"Please, Lord Dragon," Narishma interrupted, "allow me. I will do it. I just—"

Elnore snorted. "His loyalty is divided, Rand. Any Asha'man who has been bonded by one of these bloody witches is not trustworthy. If his owner orders it, he'll turn on you."

"No!" Narishma shook his head, the bells jingling loudly. "I am loyal to you, Lord Dragon. I will bring you _Callandor_."

"You will _not_ give him that sword, Jahar," Merise said between clenched teeth. The woman looked as though her eyes might pop out of her skull.

Rand turned his gaze to Merise and the woman shuddered. Visibly. "Go get it, Narishma. _Now_." This time the boy spared no glance for Merise before rushing from the room.

"Rand, he—"

"He is loyal, Elnore," Rand interrupted. "He would not betray me."

"Oh?" Elnore raised one eyebrow. "It remains to be seen whether he would choose to obey you were he pressed hard from both sides, but what makes you think she wouldn't take the option away from him?"

"What do you mean?" Rand's question matched Mat's thoughts. He knew little of the Warder bond, save that he had no desire to ever be trapped by one.

"Bond compulsion, Rand. Any man that's bonded can be forced to do the will of his leash holder whether he likes it or not." Letting out an annoyed breath, Elnore gestured to Lan. "Ask Father, he knows."

Every gaze in the room turned to the stone-faced Malkieri man. "She speaks the truth. Most Warders I know have been forced, at one time or another, to do something they previously refused to do. There is no way to resist it."

Rand's jaw tightened, as did his fists at his side.

"There is one," Elnore corrected, "but only for a channeler. If you're holding the True Source when Compulsion is used against you, you can resist it. But only when you're holding the Source."

Rand turned away, nodding as though in answer to an unspoken question. "Yes, that's why Alanna couldn't…" Trailing off, he looked back to Elnore. "What else do you know about the bond?"

"They can use it to leech the very life from a man until he's nothing but a rotting corpse."

Mat's eyes widened. Blood and bloody ashes! He looked to the Aes Sedai—Merise was what Rand had called her—certain that his gaze reflected his thoughts on the matter. He had never liked Aes Sedai, and likely never would, but until that moment he had not considered them to be monsters. Never again would he be able to look at a woman with an ageless face and not compare her to a Trolloc. Or worse.

Rand closed the distance between himself and the Aes Sedai, but instead of looking fearful, the bloody woman merely lifted her chin and glared down her nose at him. "Being a Warder is an honor and privilege most men could only dream of having. You don't—"

"Yet another effect of the bond," Elnore interrupted coldly. "Something about it makes the bonded man want to keep it. Protect it. Even feel honored by it. Only men with the strongest of wills—and who had no desire to be bonded in the first place—can resist it."

Merise clenched her jaw so hard that Mat could hear her teeth gnashing. "It is of no matter. Every Warder that is bonded wanted the bond."

"Is that so?" Rand's fists tightened at his sides. "Think long and hard before you repeat that lie, Merise. I realize an Aes Sedai's oath never to lie is laughable given how you all twist your words to suit your desires, but as I understand it, only Black Ajah can tell a direct lie."

The Aes Sedai sputtered as her cheeks reddened. That she was angry was all too apparent, but she did not repeat her claim. "You understand nothing, boy. And you, child, you twist the truth to suit your views. You don't know—"

"Did you tell Narishma how you can use the bond against him before you bonded him?" Rand was the one to interrupt this time. That Merise remained silent was answer enough for Mat. For Rand as well, apparently. "You sicken me. You have no honor. None of you Aes Sedai do. I wonder what the Wise Ones would think of this news…"

Narishma rushed back into the room, his breath coming in quick spurts. In his arms, he held a blanketed bundle Mat could only assume was _Callandor_. Had the boy actually run to get the sword? "Whatever you plan to do, Lord Dragon, I would like to help."

Rand regarded the boy for a few moments, then shook his head. "No. I cannot trust you." He moved quickly, snatching both the dragon pin and the sword pin from Narishma's collar in one motion. "The ranks of Dedicated and Asha'man are earned, Narishma, through training, yes, but also through dedication and obedience to the Lord Dragon. You can not be loyal to both Merise and the Black Tower; you must choose." He held the two pins under the boy's nose. "If you want these back, you must earn them. You must earn my trust again and prove that your loyalties are with me, not with her. Until then, you are no longer Asha'man. You are no longer Dedicated. You are naught but a Warder who can channel." He paused, taking the bundle Narishma had brought in with him, then added, "An Aes Sedai lapdog."

"You have no right to take that pin," Merise insisted. Mat resisted the urge to roll his eyes; did the woman have no sense at all? "I gave that pin to him and—"

"_You_ do not have the authority to give a dragon pin to anyone, Merise. _You_ do not have the authority to grant the title of Asha'man to anyone, and should you attempt it, I can promise you that you will be made to regret it." Rand's gaze went to Elnore. "Shield her the way you shielded Alivia. Make certain she can not get out of it." He thumbed the band on his wrist. "Do it slowly enough for me to follow."

"I'll need to invert it when I'm done," Elnore said, turning her attention to Merise. Her hands never moved from her side, but Mat's medallion was like ice against his chest. After a few short moments, Elnore asked, "Got it?"

"Yes. Now, Merise…Narishma…get out of my sight."

Merise's hands were shaking visibly as she wiggled her fingers in the air. After a moment, she let out a pained wail. "What have you… Unshield me at once! I will not—"

"The Lord Dragon gave you an order, woman," Elnore growled. "I suggest you follow it before he loses his patience."

"If you behave," Rand said calmly, almost too calmly, "I may have her remove the shield later. Otherwise—"

"You will remove it at once!" Merise demanded. "Cadsuane will hear of this, you fool boy! When she finishes with you, you will—"

"Get out!" Rand thundered, his voice so loud that it made Merise take several steps backwards. "Now!"

The woman looked as though she still wanted to argue, but she must have seen something in Rand's eyes that made her change her mind. Spinning around, she rushed from the room with Narishma on her heels. Aes Sedai lapdog, indeed.

Elnore crossed her arms over her breasts and glared at the door. "Can I just still her and be done with it?"

Ignoring Elnore's question, Rand stripped the blanket away to reveal the crystal sword. He held it tightly as he turned to Logain. "Do you trust these men who came to you?" Logain offered no more than a nod. "To whom does the Black Tower belong, Logain? Where should the men's loyalties lie?"

Logain's jaw clenched, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. "With the Lord Dragon. With the Light."

"And the M'Hael? To whom does he ultimately answer?"

There was only the slightest hesitation before Logain said, "To you."

The tension between the two men was clear, and for a moment Mat wondered if Rand meant to strike the other man down. Finally, though, Rand seemed to relax. "I accept your offer of fealty, Logain." Logain opened his mouth to object—he had offered no vow of fealty that Mat had heard—but Rand spoke over him. "I shall hold you and yours to this promise, to follow this path should it lead to Shayol Ghul itself."

From there, things grew worse.

Rand continued ranting at them in an overwrought tongue until Mat would have sworn he was consumed by a spirit from Ages past. His boredom grew until he could no longer stand it, so to amuse himself he leaned forward to pinch Elnore's backside. The girl's reaction did not disappoint as she leapt into the air with a squeal of shock.

Silence reigned for a time as all eyes focused on Elnore, who was blushing furiously. Mat idly checked his fingernails for cleanliness with an arched eyebrow his only reaction to Elnore's inappropriate outburst.

As Rand cleared his throat, Mat hazarded a peek about the room. Everyone was focused on Rand; everyone except Elnore and Lan, who were glaring at him with the threat of violence in their eyes. Mat knew what kind of violence Lan was considering. It was the punishment burgeoning in Elnore's mind that gave him pause.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Rand spoke in a tone that promised action. Turning his attention to Androl, he ordered, "Androl, gather the men who came here with you. There are twenty others who came with Logain before; gather them as well. Since you led the men here to tell of Taim's treachery, it is fitting you should be the first to make the introduction of the new M'Hael, Logain Ablar. I expect you to follow his voice as my own."

"Yes, my Lord Dragon," Androl said, placing his fist over his chest. "How may we help in removing Taim?"

Rand barely hesitated before answering, "Open a gateway to a spot just outside the Tower grounds and secure the perimeter in the name of the Dragon Reborn. Logain and I will storm Taim's palace." He paused, seemingly drawn by the glowing of _Callandor_. "If Taim's men are there, kill them. No quarter shall be given. They either follow the Dragon Reborn or they die. Once we've secured the palace, we will join you outside." His lips curled up into a self-satisfied smile. "Or, if you deal with yours first, meet us inside. Logain?"

"I'm going as well," Elnore announced.

"No you aren't." Logain said the exact same words at the exact same time as Lan, though Elnore appeared unaffected by either of them.

The look she gave them all was more superior than Mat had seen from any Aes Sedai. And far more stubborn. "I'll either go with you two or I'll open my own bloody gateway and storm the grounds myself. It's your flaming choice." The medallion was like ice against Mat's chest. It did not seem like she was giving them much of a choice, unless they wanted to shield her. Fool girl! Why go to war when she could have stayed and had more drinks with him?

Logain let out a small growl. "Fine. But stay close."

The man's order went unheeded, because as soon as the hole appeared in the air, Elnore was through the thing with Rand following close behind. The sound of lightning pealing echoed back through the room as the two of them already began their attacks. After a choice curse, Logain followed, leaving Mat and Lan behind as the gateway inked out in his wake.

Mat stood for a time staring at the spot where the gateway had snapped shut. "That girl is crazy, but she's got a great rump. Reminds me of N…" Mat paused and decided it best not to finish the thought aloud. He turned to Lan, who looked as irritable as ever. Mat flashed him a grin and shrugged. "But you must have noticed the likeness. Anyway, should we use the door this time or would you prefer the window?"

Mat never received an answer to his question as Lan turned and walked out the door, slamming it soundly in his wake.

* * *

"Get her on her feet, child."

Zora spun at the sound of the voice, surprised to see the tall woman behind her, as well as the other six women that were looming in the doorway. All except for the tall woman wore red-fringed shawls around their shoulders. Odd, she had not even heard anyone enter the dungeon. Granted, Zora's undivided attention had been on the dark-haired girl that lay on the floor. Several times the girl had moved and, out of fear, Zora had knocked her in the head and dosed her with more of that liquid the tall woman had left. She did not want to take chances that this horrible criminal would attack her.

"I just dosed her again and—"

"And nothing. Get her on her feet." The woman unlocked the cell and entered before pointing at the three women to her right. "You three shield her in case she wakes. Be quick about it! Put that dress on her and help her walk. I want this trial, and the sentencing, over before the Ajah heads return. I warned you all they were planning something!"

Zora stepped out of the way when the other three women started to dress the girl. The dress they had brought looked to be little more than rags, dirty and torn. It was not until the tall woman held coins out to her that Zora looked away from the pitiful sight of the girl. "Thank you," she whispered hoarsely, her eyes widening at the coins.

"If you wish to have more work, you may report to the kitchens. I am certain they will find something for you there." With a wave of her hand she dismissed Zora, though her voice carried all the way through the dungeon itself. The coldness behind the woman's words sent a shiver up Zora's spine.

"Egwene al'Vere, for falsely claiming to be Amyrlin, you are hereby charged with treason against the White Tower. The Hall has gathered and is waiting. Your trial is about to begin."

Zora hurried up the steps, wanting nothing more than to be away from the women. She had heard stories about the Aes Sedai, about how hard and cruel they were, but nothing she heard compared to what she had seen in the last few days. Job in the kitchens or not, all she wanted to do was leave the Tower. And once she did, she would never come back.


	8. Chapter 7 Blood and Fire

_**Chapter 7**_

_**Blood and Fire**_

* * *

"The Tower has been breached."

The words were not ones Dugyn Lazare wished to hear, but they did not surprise him. What other explanation could there be for the thunderous sounds that shook the walls of his room? The men knew better than to practice the destructive weaves Taim had taught them within the palace walls. Still, he had dismissed the noise—what sort of fool would dare attack the Black Tower? "The entire Tower, or just the palace?"

The bald man in the doorway fixed him with a wry glare. "Try looking out a window instead of hiding down here like a coward and you might see for yourself."

Dugyn growled at the man's insolence. Though he had never liked the man who darkened his doorway, and liked him even less at the moment, he was far stronger in the One Power than Dugyn so he knew it was unwise to press the matter. Taim had left Dugyn in charge, however, and he was not about to shirk that duty. "Gather as many men as you can find and divide them into strike teams. Two or three men each should do it. I—"

"Two or three men each?" The other Asha'man snorted disdainfully and gestured to the ceiling above. "Do you feel that? Do you have any idea how much _saidin_ is being channeled for us to feel it this strongly? This isn't a trickle, you old fool." He shook his head and snorted again. "You want strike teams? Go form them yourself. I've already set a counterattack in motion with my men." His men. Not Taim's. Did Taim not see how dangerous this man was? Or did he merely not care? "I'll do what I must. You can sit here and wait to be slaughtered like chattel. Bloody coward."

"I'm in charge here!" Dugyn shouted, though the target of his righteous anger was already gone from sight. Burn it all!

Another rumble shook the ceiling above, causing several stones to dislodge and fall to the floor. Dugyn was no coward, but neither was he a fool. Directly confronting the source of this madness would only get him killed. There were, however, alternatives to bring down an enemy than in a face to face battle.

His jaw set determinedly, Dugyn went to his weapons chest and removed his old bow, the very same bow he had brought to the Tower when he joined months before. Taim had claimed conventional weapons were no longer needed, but Dugyn had always felt there was a place for them. A channeler could as easily die by an arrow as anyone else, especially if he never saw it coming.

With a slight smirk, he grasped _saidin_ and forced it to his will, quickly weaving Spirit around himself and the bow. The weave was one he worked to master more than any other, a weave that rendered him invisible. Other Asha'man scoffed at it, believing it worthless, but Dugyn knew the truth. He knew just how useful this weave was. Using it allowed him to listen to conversations when no one suspected his presence. It allowed him to come and go without an eye ever having settled upon him. And now, during this attack, none would see him coming until it was too late.

When he moved into the hallway, he moved carefully. The soft-soled boots he wore neither creaked nor tapped on the marble floor as he made his way toward the fray. Up the stairs he went, unsurprised to see dead bodies littering his path. Whoever had brought this war to the Black Tower was taking no prisoners. Was it the Aes Sedai? Certainly not. Aes Sedai were no match for an Asha'man, especially those trained by Mazrim Taim. Well, it was of no matter. Whoever was responsible would meet their doom. Dugyn would see to it.

It did not take him long to find the trio responsible for the explosions and lightning peals within the palace, and when he saw the red-haired boy carrying the glowing crystal sword—_Callandor_—Dugyn knew the other two with him were hardly needed. But he had an advantage, one he intended to press.

A thousand questions bloomed in his mind, warring for supremacy, yet only one seemed to matter: what had caused al'Thor to come here? What had prompted this attack? Dugyn buried the thought. Truly, his curiosity aside, the reasons did not matter. All that mattered was stopping the fool boy. The M'Hael had wanted al'Thor dead for some time now; though Taim had relented on that plan somewhat, Dugyn knew the truth. The boy must die.

Slipping into a small corridor, he silently nocked the arrow he had ready and drew the bowstring back until it was so taut it felt as though it would snap. He had spent most of his early years in the woods hunting dinner for his mother and younger sister. This was no different. It was kill or be killed, and he would not die this day.

He waited patiently, shadowing al'Thor as he moved stoically down the long hallway. Those in his path did not resist long. Most died screaming. Eloy. Voon. Barall. They all fell and Dugyn watched. Some, however, begged for mercy and dropped to their knees before the boy to swear their unending fealty. Those, al'Thor let live. It sickened Dugyn to watch it. He had waited long enough. It was time for al'Thor to meet his fate.

So, after drawing a silent breath, he took aim at the boy's back and loosed the arrow.

* * *

The ground trembled beneath Algar Teel as he put one foot in front of the other. Following his example, the three Soldiers at his heels never slowed their progress and, instead, continued directing weaves of Earth and Fire at the enemy. Thankfully, at the moment, identifying the enemy—a group of five full-fledged Asha'man who seemed intent on killing Algar and his three companions—was not a problem. That had not been so when this battle had begun.

Algar grimaced, directing a particularly nasty weave of Fire and Spirit at one of the Asha'man. The man sliced through it just in time, but was not quick enough to defend against the thick flows of Fire that consumed him. Algar sighed as the Asha'man died screaming. He knew he should have stayed in bed, but for some reason he had chosen today, of all days, for an evening stroll around the Tower grounds. That had been an unwise decision on his part. His worst choice of the day, though, by far, was his attempt to find the source of the commotion in the Palace.

Shouts and curses had filled the air as hordes of men ran wild and nearly trampled each other in the process. Some ran from the Palace, some to it, but almost all possessed the same bewildered and confused expressions. Those fleeing the Palace were in so much of a hurry to get away that they refused to stop and answer even the simplest of questions. Whatever they were running from, whatever terrors lurked inside the Palace, had struck the fear of the Light into them.

With a curse of his own, Algar quickened his pace. Instead of going inside the building, he had chosen to make his way around the perimeter. Until he knew for certain what enemy he was facing, he preferred to battle out in the open space of the Tower grounds rather than rushing into a trap set in the labyrinth of passages in Taim's palace. He did wonder, though, what had prompted all of this. Had Taim finally gone mad? Despite the fact that _saidin_ had been cleansed, it seemed to Algar that Taim grew a bit more insane with each passing day. The M'Hael had always been harsh—it was not unheard of for him to injure those in his private classes for speaking out of turn, then refusing them Healing—but his fits of anger had become more frequent of late. And he had killed two of his own men in the past week for minor transgressions.

Though he expected chaos to await him once he reached the grounds on the other side of the Palace, he found only a handful of men there. The atmosphere seemed almost peaceful when compared to what he had just left behind, or so he thought until he rounded a corner and saw them—two groups of Asha'man, the larger of which was Taim's. The other group, outnumbered by two men to one, was unfamiliar save the man that stood in front. Androl Genhold was one of Logain Ablar's followers, and one of the Dedicated that Taim had recently labeled a traitor. As far as Algar knew, the only crime Androl had committed _was_ following Logain, but that was apparently enough reason for Taim to call for the man's head.

"You've been named a deserter, Androl," Algar said casually as he approached the two groups. Androl seemed oblivious to the fact that he was lucky to be drawing breath; it was a good thing for him that Taim's men took great joy in bullying those weaker than they. After a brief moment, Algar let his hard gaze fall on one of Taim's men, a pale worm of a man named Baret. The man dropped his eyes, wilting under Algar's glare. The others were not as weak-willed and returned his fierce look with a mixture of defiance, fear, hatred, and grudging respect. Androl and the group of men with him merely looked defiant. And very determined.

"A deserter in name, not in truth." Androl's tone was filled with barely contained rage as he regarded all of them. "The same cannot be said of any of you however. The Lord Dragon is within Taim's…palace"—he sneered at the word, and Algar found himself agreeing, as it seemed there were no limits to Taim's arrogance or stupidity—"and he has come to seize control of the Tower, by force if necessary. Taim has been on his own for far too long. His corruption ends today."

Algar gave no indication of his feelings on the matter, though he knew every man there was holding _saidin_. Androl and his men were well aware they were outnumbered, judging by their defensive stances. Taim's men were well aware they had the advantage; that was the only explanation as to why they had not finished this.

"You call Taim by his name and not his title," Algar continued idly, as though unaware of the unspoken threat of violence in the air. "Has al'Thor deposed him, then?"

"The Lord Dragon," one of the men at Androl's side growled, stepping forward. There was no fear in his gaze, and he holding nearly as much _saidin_ as Algar himself could hold. The man was ready for a fight. All of them were. Things were getting interesting at last, and not for the last time Algar wished he had stayed in bed today. When things got 'interesting', people usually died. For his part, Algar was partial to keeping his head attached to his shoulders, so he tended to try to avoid any 'interesting' situations. Unfortunately, it was too late now.

"Logain is the M'Hael now," Androl replied calmly, holding an arm out as though he expected his companion might try to physically attack Algar and the rest of Taim's men. "All those who refuse to follow him and the Lord Dragon are to be executed."

Turning his head, Algar regarded the three Soldiers he had brought with him before letting his gaze fall on Baret and the others. Androl and his men were sorely outnumbered, but clearly intended to fight to the death regardless. Their loyalty to al'Thor, and willingness to carry out his orders despite the odds, was obvious. They were either very brave, or very foolish. Either one could get them killed. "Should we do as they say?" Algar asked his men softly, his cold gaze giving no sign of his feelings on the matter.

"No, _Tsorovan'm'hael_," they replied as one, the title making Androl gasp in shock. Storm Leader. It was an accurate title given what was about to happen. Algar nearly smiled—he had waited months for this, for al'Thor to finally make a move.

"No one who follows Taim will listen to you, Androl," Algar announced dryly, bringing his hand up to rest lightly on the hilt of his sword. He took a step backward, moving so that he was standing only a short distance in front of the nearest two Asha'man. With a wolfish grin, he added, "I, however, never liked the man." In one smooth motion he pulled his sword from its sheath, twisted on his heel and sliced down in a deadly arc. The head of the nearest Asha'man bounced unceremoniously to the ground, but before anyone had a chance to react Algar thrust his sword into the next Asha'man's gut even as he weaved Fire and Air. Tiny burning projectiles seemed to shoot from his body, easily piercing flesh and dropping the third man lifelessly to the ground.

Screams and shouts erupted as Algar's weaves and sword brought death to Taim's Asha'man. His sword was a blur, severing limbs and heads as he used his other hand to hurl darts of Fire into the few who remained standing.

Lightning fell among the Asha'man as well, fires dancing between them as Androl's men joined the battle. It was hardly necessary at this point, though. Surprise was the key to victory it was said, and what greater surprise could there be than one of Taim's highest ranking Asha'man turning on his supposed leader?

Those who were not dead lay dying, including the three Soldiers who had chosen to join the wrong side of the battle, and as Algar eyed the fresh corpses he abruptly became aware of Androl at his side. The other man was still holding _saidin_ and glaring at him warily. "Why?" he demanded.

Not releasing the One Power, Algar replied coolly, "They had to die, just like you said, Androl. Don't let guilt plague you now. Or, if you meant why I helped you, I already gave you my reason. I never liked Taim, and al'Thor is the Dragon Reborn. For Asha'man his word is law." Taking a step back he released _saidin_. "What next?"

Androl seemed taken aback by this change of subject, as well as Algar's answer. Looking at the former Storm Leader with the beginnings of respect, he said gruffly, "Take three of my men with you. I'm to hold the Tower grounds, and reinforcements will be arriving soon to help. You go into the Palace and help the Lord Dragon deal with Taim and his men there. Whatever is left of them."

Shrugging, Algar gestured for three of the Dedicated with Androl to follow him and made his way towards the nearest entrance of the Palace. As soon as they stepped inside the Palace, they were immediately attacked by a small group of Taim's men. Had it not been for the three Dedicated with him, Algar knew he would not have survived. Unfortunately, the short battle that ensued left him with one fewer Dedicated.

Unable to see his enemies due to the clouds of dust and smoke that filled the corridors, he snarled and indiscriminately flung deadly weaves in front of him, adding to the piles of debris that already blocked his path. While he kept Taim's men on the defensive, the two remaining Dedicated were working to clear the halls of the obstacles. Even with the halls clearer, Algar could not spot Taim's men, likely because they were using the weave to block detection. Not many of Taim's men knew that weave, only ones that had learned it before swearing themselves to him and his cause; Taim himself had declared it pointless.

Algar drew in a deep breath, allowing his _saidin_ enhanced senses to guide him. He heard the enemy only dimly, and barely sensed the weaves they formed. In the end, it was of no consequence. Despite them being fully fledged Asha'man, they were still amateurs, at best. Lately Taim had taken to advancing many of his pets to Asha'man status whether they deserved it or not, all in an effort to give him more power against Logain. Against al'Thor. How ironic that none of it had helped him. Given the massive amounts of _saidin_ Algar sensed being channeled in other parts of the Palace, the Lord Dragon truly was here, and not alone it seemed. Either that or he had brought a _sa'angreal_ with him.

Truth be told, although he didn't show it, the amounts of the One Power being wielded frightened him. It was nothing like the seemingly impossible beacon from a few weeks earlier, but it was too close for comfort, and more than enough to destroy him, the palace, and everything else as far as the eye could see. If not farther.

Gritting his teeth, Algar dropped to the floor as a bar of liquid fire flew over his head. Balefire. Had he been a second slower, he would have been dead. No, worse. Burned from the Pattern. More blasts followed the first, the bars of white-hot flame fanning out as the Light-blinded fools flung Balefire everywhere in their effort to destroy him and his companions. He had to end this. Quickly.

A cracking sound drew Algar's attention above, where the ceiling looked ready to cave in on them. The massive stone walls, which now had holes in them longer than he was tall, did not appear to be in much better shape. They would be lucky if the whole bloody building didn't fall in on their heads!

"Move, you bloody fools!" he roared at the two Dedicated as he leapt to his feet and broke into a run, weaving thick flows of Air to hold the walls and ceiling in place. "And help keep the bloody ceiling up until we get out of here!"

They did as he said, but even their combined strength was not enough. The massive weight was more than they could hold, and with a sickening creak Algar felt both the ceiling and walls give way. Shouting wordlessly he launched himself forward, practically flying through the air as the entire corridor caved in, leaving naught but an enormous pile of rubble behind.

"Is everyone all right?" he asked shakily, casting a nervous glance around for any sign of Taim's men. Nods were the only answers he received to his question, though he could see that one of the Dedicated was bleeding while the other's arm was twisted at a strange angle. He wished he knew how to Heal, but anything more than a bruise was more than he could manage. As long as they didn't whine about their injuries they were likely not too bad. All that mattered was that they survived.

Rising to his feet, he turned to the men under his command. "Spread out and follow me. Taim's men are still here, and I want you to loose everything you have when the goat-kissers show themselves. Use weaves of Fire and Earth, but do your best to keep the Palace in one piece. We don't want to end up like that." He gestured to a hand sticking up from the debris behind them. It was a blessing that not all of Taim's men had been quick enough to escape their own destruction. Anything that saved Algar a bit of work was welcome.

Without another word, he cautiously moved down the next corridor. He placed defensive weaves around him and his companions, but readied a mix of much more dangerous weaves that could be loosed at any moment. As it turned out, he did not have to wait very long.

As they drew near a corner, he felt a sudden influx of _saidin _around him. The air itself rippled, exploding outward. The defenses he had erected protected him, as well as the Dedicated behind him, but they also kept him from launching his own attack. That would not do.

Forcing himself to draw deeper on the One Power until it was almost unbearable, he opened a small hole in the shield of Air that surrounded him and released thin bars of Balefire, thanking the Light he had remembered the weave. No corpses fell—the weave of Invisibility Taim's men had surrounding them never faltered—but the air stopped shimmering wherever the bar of molten fire struck, and Algar felt the assaults on his protective shield lessen. Smiling grimly, he channeled again, using the bars of light to clear the area. Instead of meeting flesh, however, the Balefire merely destroyed another part of the wall. At least the structure held. For that much he was grateful.

All at once, the attacks stopped. Not one weave battered against his defenses as he started to move forward again. He knew it wouldn't last, and within mere seconds Taim's men dropped the weaves that had been hiding them and slowly retreated, striking yet again with deadly precision.

Algar never slowed. Once you had the enemy retreating, you pressed your attack. It was a simple rule of battle, one he had learned at a young age. Intentionally widening the hole in his defenses, he did his best to block the deadly weaves as the Dedicated behind him flung weaves of Fire and Earth at Taim's men. Grunting from the strain, Algar weaved pure Fire, a weave so thick that holding it was nearly too much for him, and released the raging inferno at the enemy. Drawing his sword again, he quickly spun Air and Spirit. The air around him shimmered, then settled and hid him from sight.

Without pause, he followed behind the wall of fire he had created. _Saidin_ sliced through his inferno, dampening it, then causing it to disappear altogether. By the time it was gone, he was only an arm's length away from the remaining Asha'man. There were two of them. That they did not sense him gave him a small advantage. That their attention was on the two Dedicated, who were still attacking with all their might gave him an even greater advantage.

Springing into motion, Algar flowed through the forms effortlessly, his blade taking down the enemy with ease. Cries of rage and triumph turned to cries of pain as they fell to the floor, the one with his head still remaining on his shoulders clutching the bloody stump where his arm had once been. Though he doubted the man deserved it, Algar decided to show him mercy. Fire laced from his fingertips, stilling the man's heart. With a deep breath, he released the weave that hid him from sight.

Algar was splattered in blood, he realized—thankfully none of it his own—but now was not the time to deal with it. Appearances were unimportant at the moment. The two Dedicated, who were staring at him with something akin to fear or disgust, seemed to disagree, though he paid no mind to that either. If what he had done today made them realize that battles were neither pretty nor pleasant, then it was only for the best. They had to take those lessons to heart before Tarmon Gai'don began.

"There are more of these bloody fools here," he growled. "Let's find them."

* * *

Logain felt his blood pumping energy and life through him, his heartbeat surprisingly steady considering what he was doing. _Fighting for my life is one thing I'm _not _doing today, _he thought with a wry smile, which was likely one reason for his inner calm.

No, with al'Thor—the Lord Dragon—carrying the legendary _sa'angreal_ _Callandor_, defeating Taim's men was proving to be a task any child could accomplish without difficulty. Those who refused to bend knee were killed like the traitors they were, and those that did turn their backs on Taim were dispersed throughout the palace to keep the situation under control. All in all it was almost too easy.

That thought bothered him—surely Taim had more and better trained men than this!—but he had no time to dwell on it as another wave of assailants appeared. He recognized them immediately, some of Taim's most trusted and loyal supporters. They would do their best to kill what they saw as three intruders, and Logain could not allow that to happen, not even to the strange little woman, Elnore, who fought so fiercely at al'Thor's other side. Perhaps especially not to her, as she was, after all, a woman. That al'Thor had allowed her to take part in what had to be done was both surprising and disturbing given his well-known attitude about placing women in danger. Elnore had an air of danger all her own, however. Perhaps that had something to do with al'Thor's decision…

He let his gaze rest on her briefly. She had so many of Nynaeve's features that they could pass for identical twins were it not for her blue eyes. And the way she dressed. But why? His mother had told him, when he was but a boy, that everyone had a twin somewhere in the world. He had always dismissed it as an ridiculous woman's tale—women almost always seemed to have some sort of absurd tale to tell that served no purpose other than to either force you into doing whatever they wished or to convince you of some half witted theory they had—but, looking at Elnore, he wondered if his mother had been right. Whatever the reason for her appearance, and presence, it would have to wait until this fight was over.

Leaving the defenses to Rand and Elnore, Logain channeled pure flows of Fire and watched as it engulfed their opponents. He allowed it to rage on, only forcing it to dissipate when he and the others continued their journey down the hallway. Of Taim's men there was no sign, save several piles of ash that quickly began to scatter as they passed. With a frown, Logain averted his gaze. How many men would pass through these piles before the day was done, never realizing that they were coated in human remains rather than simple dust? So many were dying this day; he prayed to the Creator the Tower could survive it.

Al'Thor gave him a hard and disapproving look. "Next time wait to see if they bend the knee before killing them," was all he said before continuing onward, callously stepping through the ash.

Twisting his mouth Logain followed, speaking quietly. "They would not have knelt. There was murder in their eyes." He allowed his eyes to scan the area, once again searching for the next potential threat. The sound of a bowstring snapping was the only warning he had, however, and even that came too late. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something streak by him, flying directly at Rand and giving him no time to do anything to prevent it.

An arrow he realized, his eyes widening as time seemed to slow to a crawl. Before he could so much as raise his hand to begin a weave, the arrow struck something a short distance from al'Thor's back and plummeted to the floor with a dull thump. Under normal circumstances, Logain would have wondered what sort of defenses al'Thor had weaved around him since they were undetectable and worked even when outside al'Thor's field of vision, but such rational thought was elusive in the midst of the battle.

Instead, he spun quickly, one arm already outstretched and weaves ready to obliterate the enemy, but Elnore was even faster. Before he could even blink, the entire hallway behind them erupted into a maelstrom of flame so hot that Logain could feel its searing heat even from a distance. The marble walls melted like butter on a hot pan, layers of the normally solid stone dripping to the floor.

Even al'Thor looked taken aback by the ferocity of Elnore's attack, though that was the only similarity in their reactions. Where Logain scowled at Elnore—if the girl destroyed the bloody palace, it would mean a great deal of work to make it habitable again—the bloody Dragon Reborn apparently found the situation amusing and smiled at the girl instead.

For a moment, Logain could do nothing but stare at the other two as they kept moving away. Blood and ashes, it was probably the first time Logain had seen al'Thor show so much emotion, but that was a drop of rain in a torrential downpour when compared with the way Elnore beamed upon seeing al'Thor's smile. Vowing to learn what was going on with those two later, Logain quickened his pace to catch up with them as they neared the end of the corridor. Rumbling echoed from elsewhere in the Palace, but he paid it no mind. Battles much fiercer than the ones he had faced so far were raging all around the Tower, where his men fought without the protection offered by _Callandor_; he could do nothing for them now, but if he could make Rand and Elnore pick up the pace…

All thought fled Logain's mind when he caught sight of more of Taim's men rounding the corner and he began fighting for his life. He could feel the torrents of _saidin_ al'Thor was wielding at his side, as well as the familiar chill of _saidar_, signifying that Elnore was channeling as well, but he could see neither of them through the smoke and the deadly confusion.

Earlier, he had believed securing the palace was too easy. It seemed the Dark One had just given him a response.

* * *

"For the Lord Dragon!"

The battle cry echoed in the air, mixing with the smoke and drowning the angry shouts of Taim's men. As Declan Alagoran pulled his sword free from yet another of Taim's followers, he repeated the sentiment himself, though his voice was lost amidst the sea of noise. The sound of an explosion to his left made him glad he had erected the shield of Air around himself, protecting him from the enormous burst of flame that swallowed one of the nearby buildings. It was too close for comfort, despite the shield. A smaller rumble followed, signifying impending doom, yet he charged forward anyway, intent on dealing with whatever fate would meet him. The chunks of flesh that rained down upon him, filling the air like big red snowflakes, would have normally turned his stomach, but he remained emotionally detached. It was the only way to survive this battle.

Still, for just a moment, he feared that it was one of the Lord Dragon's followers that had suffered such a gruesome fate, but it was then that he caught sight of Evin Vinchova. The boy's proud smile said it all: more of Taim's men had fallen.

Declan was normally not one to take glee in causing death—being raised in the Borderlands, death always stayed too close for comfort—but he had been at the Black Tower for nearly a month, and in that time he had seen more of Taim's corruption than he could bear. Though in some people's eyes he was killing his brothers-in-arms, he knew the truth of the matter was that he was killing men who served the Shadow. He was just happy that the Lord Dragon had finally come to see that truth as well. More importantly, he had chosen to do something about it. It renewed Declan's faith in the man, faith he had been beginning to lose after a short time at the Tower. After all, how could one man defeat the very _source_ of evil if he could not, or would not, obliterate the evil that had sprung up in an organization he himself had founded? Others had voiced the same concerns, believing that the Dragon Reborn cared nothing about them as long as they killed at his whim. But now the Asha'man would have hope. They would know that the man the Creator had chosen to save the world truly _wanted_ to do so. Just as importantly, the world's savior valued the Asha'man as more than mere weapons. Though a great many would die at Tarmon Gai'don, Declan had to believe that some would survive. It would be nice if those men had a future that did not revolve around the ability to kill. Some had embraced their fate as walking weapons, but most wanted to have lives. Families. They wanted the ability and right to live as they chose and love as they chose. After all, wasn't that what they were fighting for?

"The rest of Taim's men have fled," Evin announced loudly. The boy's left hand was wrapped around the hilt of his sword like a vise, although his arm was shaking. It was that, rather than the steady stream of blood flowing down his arm, that indicated injury. Given the amount of blood on the boy's clothes, it could have easily belonged to their enemies. Chances were most of it did, but most was not all. "And the Soldiers are still with the women and children. Defending them, just in case. Only a few were killed. Some were injured, though, before they could be taken to the safe house. We should—"

"The first thing we should do is take care of that wound," Declan interrupted calmly. He was already holding _saidin_, battling that river of pleasure in an effort to control it. Now that it was clean, it was tempting to hold it as long as he could. The lack of taint, however, did not make it any gentler. Truthfully, he would not have had it any other way.

Wielding all five Powers, Declan let a complex weave fall over the boy. Evin's body lurched, but in the time it took to draw another breath, his wound was closed. Declan was not arrogant enough to think himself as good at Healing as Damer Flinn—he had heard stories of the man's miraculous discoveries, and even more of the Lord Dragon's boyhood friend, Nynaeve al'Meara—but he had learned enough through experimentation and well-placed questions to handle most wounds with ease. One day he hoped to at least rival Flinn, but for now he was happy with his newfound skills. He was quickly gaining enough confidence to name himself a Healer. The world would need many of them soon, he suspected. And using his skills to save life rather than to take it was all too appealing.

Evin flashed him a grateful grin. It made him look even younger than his years. Light, the boy should not be forced to go to war! But, truth be told, Declan had been even younger than Evin when he had been sent to guard the Blightborder with his blade. The difference was that now the stakes were higher. Much higher. And the enemies were far more fearsome than Trollocs or Fades. "Thanks. What now, Dec? Like I said, I think the rest of Taim's men, however many survived, have fled, but I can't see a bloody thing with all this smoke."

"We clear the smoke, put out the fires, and, if we see any more of Taim's men, we kill them." Capture had been discussed when Androl had arrived, but Declan had argued the point. Capturing evil men and expecting them to change their ways was folly. You did not throw a snake in your hen house and expect things to work out well. Not unless you were a total fool, of course.

"You sound like Logain."

Logain. Now the man was the M'Hael, according to Androl. Calling him that would take a bit of getting used to, but it was no matter. At least Logain was a good man. He'd seen and heard enough to recognize that truth. Hopefully Logain would be able to turn things around. And maybe, with some help, he could finally make the Black Tower a more pleasant place to live. "Come on, let's gather the others and get this place cleaned up and locked down. Then we can go into the palace and help the Lord Dragon and the M'Hael."

* * *

Stepping over the body of a young flaxen-haired boy with a wide-eyed lifeless stare, Rand frowned, if only inwardly. Too many were dead already, yet he had little choice in adding to that number, especially when they attacked as ferociously as the boy at his feet had done. Despite their young age, as well as the vileness of their cause, Taim's men were well trained. Rand feared they were better trained than any in the Black Tower, save Logain and those who followed him, which made them dangerous foes. Dangerous or not, though, they fell like any other.

Though the initial surprise of the attack sent them reeling, Taim's followers had recovered quickly and attempted to form a defensive front. Their efforts, however, were insufficient. Filled to near bursting with _saidin_, Rand let the burning light of _Callandor_ lead him as he left a torrent of destruction in his wake_._ All who channeled against him were destroyed.

It took all of his self-control to hold back and give Taim's men a chance to ally with those loyal to the Dragon Reborn. Initially, very few men defected; most men met swift deaths from Fire, falling stone, or the crushing force of Air. However, as Rand's party moved away from the throne room, the heart of Taim's power, more Asha'man answered the call of the Lord Dragon and fell to one knee before him to offer their subservience. Whether it was his _ta'veren_ influence or the men's desire to live, Rand did not know. Nor did he care, as long as their turn of heart proved true.

Determined to put an end to the chaos that had spread throughout the Black Tower, he continued his inexorable progress through the keep. At times Logain or Elnore would temporarily disappear down a side corridor or into a room to sweep up pockets of resistance. Lost in the rush of the One Power, Rand was not sure when Elnore last disappeared, yet she had been gone for some time now. Somehow he knew she was still alive, though. The Pattern had not sent her to him only to take her away in this battle.

_We mustn't allow the Forsaken to get her._ Lews Therin's voice was a knife cutting through Rand's thoughts. He was right, of course, but he could not afford to be distracted by the man's ranting right now. _Bait. We can use her as bait. If we are cautious._

Doing his best to silence the unwelcome voice, Rand served waves of death to those who stood in his way. Yet not all the casualties in the battle were loyal to Taim. Rand glanced at a fallen Dedicated nearby and absently noted a face he knew well from his home in the Two Rivers. The sight drove him onward, and any sorrow he may have felt over the boy's death quickly turned to cold rage. Rage could be used against his enemies; other emotions merely diverted him from his goal.

Harnessing the power of _Callandor_, he pressed on through the palace until he found himself standing atop the rubble that littered an entryway of the keep. Resistance was waning, or perhaps dead already, but the courtyard was bathed in blood. Fires rose in the darkness only to be quickly extinguished. Even so, he did not release _saidin_. It felt too good coursing through him, washing away emotion and mortal weakness. Now that it was clean, it was nearly enjoyable. If only the sickness he felt would end. Only by surrounding himself with the Void could he handle the trouble he had with _saidin_. Only through the Void did he find the control he needed. _So easy to let go and wash away with it. But there is still too much to do. Taim must die._

_Yes, Taim must die._ He turned, finally, and addressed Logain. His voice was cold and distant from within the Void, "Have your men collect any prisoners. Sever them and bring them to the throne room. They will tell me where Taim is or they will join their cohorts in death." He paused, if only momentarily. "Also, have them search for Elnore. She has been missing from sight for too long now. I fear she may have run into some trouble." He just hoped it was not more trouble than she could handle.


	9. Chapter 8 The Smoke Clears

_Note: My editor is back. *grins* After she finished reviewing this chapter, I made a few slight changes to dialogue in the fight scene. As Saru said, Taim's Asha'man sounded like people out of a bad 80s movie's rape scene, but thankfully it didn't take much to fix it. I sent her, and the other three editors, chapter 9 and they should be done with it sometime in the next few weeks. Now I have four editors! Between the lot of them, they should be able to keep me in line!_

* * *

_**Chapter 8**_

_**The Smoke Clears**_

* * *

Frowning, Elnore ignored the thundering noise that shook the Black Tower's 'palace' and made her way down an unexplored corridor. Though the only noise in the long hallway was the slight clicking of the heels of her boots on the marble, she could sense someone nearby. She silently thanked the Creator for the way holding the One Power enhanced her senses. Still, it seemed strange to her. Once she and Rand had stepped through the gateway and started channeling, Taim's men had crawled out of the woodwork like a bunch of maddened rats. They had not hesitated in their attack, and had shown no fear even when they had seen Rand slaughtering their companions. So why would any of them be hiding now? Why not simply attack or, better yet, flee while they had the chance? Several answers came to mind at once, causing her to slowly pull her sword from its scabbard. Her grip on the hilt was so tight it caused her hand to ache. She forced herself to relax. If there were any of Taim's men left here, she could deal with them. She_ would_. Chances were those she sensed were servants, hiding and praying they survived this battle, rather than Taim's men. Certainly, Taim's men were fleeing by now.

Flight was their only hope, after all. Rand had single-handedly dealt with most of the resistance they had encountered since their arrival. With _Callandor_ in his hands, besting Taim's men was as easy as breathing for him. No doubt he could have simply decimated everyone in his path while he wielded the _sa'angreal_, but he had generously given Taim's men a chance to join him. It was just as well; given what was coming, Rand would need as many Asha'man on his side as he could get. So, while Rand had dealt with everyone in his path, Elnore and Logain had swept the side hallways and rooms Rand had missed. Though the building—or 'palace', as Taim's men had named it—was not overly large, it was still a time consuming process. And, as neither Logain nor Elnore had the luxury of wielding a _sa'angreal_, neither had bothered asking if anyone wished to desert Taim; they had merely killed any who had even vaguely appeared to be an enemy. Truth told, however, Rand had not missed many.

Elnore had broken away from both men at an intersection of hallways, drawn by something she could not explain. The path she had chosen appeared to be deserted, but her instincts, as well as her determination to help Rand in his task, drove her forward. After several minutes of seemingly pointless wandering, however, she was beginning to wonder if she should turn back and find the others. Taking a tour of the bloody place held no interest to her while Rand and Logain were in the midst of a battle. "Burn this," she muttered to herself, fighting the urge to burn a hole in the wall to soothe her rising temper. She had wasted enough time on this nonsense! "So much for instinct."

It was then, just as she was ready to turn on her heels and forget her self-assigned task, that she caught sight of the slightly ajar door near the end of the short hallway to her right. Three fairly steep marble steps led down to it, beckoning her. Taunting her. Never one to back down from a challenge, Elnore walked—as lightly as possible—toward the door. As she drew close to it she could feel, quite strongly, the presence she had sensed earlier.

Sword in hand, she quietly descended the steps. She was filled to bursting with _saidar_, its sweetness giving her a calm resolve to see this through to the end. Drawing in a deep breath, she pushed open the door and entered the room. The sight of five Asha'man standing in a partial circle around the doorway, clearly waiting for someone to reach them, made her sigh. This was not going to be easy.

"Well look what we have here," declared the large dark-haired man to her left. "One of the others said al'Thor brought reinforcements. Weak ones, apparently. We were hoping to get the supposed Dragon Reborn himself, but you'll make nice bait. According to the M'Hael, the fool man has a soft spot for women." With an arrogant grin, he gestured toward her sword and laughed. "You know how to use that? I thought Aes Sedai had Warders for that sort of thing."

The other four men laughed, eyeing her with amusement as the door behind her slammed shut with a decisive bang. It appeared they expected her to jump, or perhaps run. They clearly believed she posed no threat to them. That was their first mistake.

The blonde to her immediate right took a step toward her, his fingers twitching. Without the _ter'angreal_ bracelet she had given to Rand, she could not see what he was weaving, but the weave of Spirit and Earth that surrounded her allowed her to sense it. That was good enough. He put one hand out toward her. "Give me the sword."

She said nothing. Both her father and Rand had always told her that, when you are outnumbered and overwhelmed, it is best to keep your mouth shut and your mind on the fight. It could mean the difference between life and death. Though it was not a lesson she had always heeded during her training—more often than not, she found it difficult to remain silent—she followed it now. Instead of wasting her breath, she channeled, not giving the blonde a chance to finish whatever he was weaving.

Tight fists of Fire emanated from her, exploding outward toward her enemies. Had she not been fighting for her life, she would have laughed when she saw all the flailing about her weave caused. They were trying to defend themselves, clearly. Hadn't these idiots learned to channel without waving their hands about yet? It appeared not. Only two succeeded completely with their defenses, but the other three were taken down. Down, not out.

Ignoring the sound of the door behind her exploding off its hinges—something her weave had caused, she thought—she moved cautiously toward the two who had managed to come out of the attack unscathed. _Unless there is no other choice, only a fool blindly rushes an opponent,_ her father once told her. Lan Mandragoran had not raised a fool.

"You should not have done that," the one on the right announced angrily, stepping toward her.

Whatever weave he channeled was moving toward her in a flash, but that did not stop her from slicing through it with a sharp weave of Fire and Spirit. That she had managed to block his attack evidently unnerved him—and his partner—because the two of them rushed her at once. That was their second mistake.

She drove the blade of her sword through the heart of the one on the left just as she channeled a weave of Fire and Earth under the other one. The floor exploded beneath him, blasting him across the room. He hit the wall with a loud thud before falling to the floor, his neck bent at an impossible angle. Without pausing, she yanked her sword free from the other one, letting his limp form drop like a sack of grain.

Just as the tip of the blade was free, however, two arms clamped down over hers at the elbows and lifted her from the floor, leaving her unable to move. She cursed herself for not paying attention to the other three; her father would have been disappointed in her for that, no doubt. Her feet dangled in the air as the man who held her whispered in her ear, "You'll pay for that."

The threat behind his words did not panic her, but she did feel her heart thud significantly faster and stronger. She had to get free. Quickly. Especially given that the man was now actively channeling some sort of weave around her. It seemed this man, at least, had no need to use his hands to channel. Bully for him.

Growling, she flung her head backward as hard as she could. A small amount of glee filled her when she heard his nose crunch from the blow. The move had the desired effect as well…in addition to breaking his nose, it broke his concentration enough to cause him stop channeling. That was the only opening she needed to begin her own weave, a weave that imitated one of her mother's most basic healing weaves. Only her mother's weave did not twist as hers did.

The man screamed when it settled on him and he dropped her, giving her yet another opening. Without hesitation, she wrapped both hands around the hilt of her sword and swung around with all of her might. The sword contacted right where she aimed, at his neck, and a moment later the man's head bounced across the room. The sight of it momentarily paralyzed her. The sound of his skull striking the floor was still echoing in her ears when a fist caught her on the side of the face and knocked her to the floor. Her sword skittered in the opposite direction. Not that she could see it; no, all she saw at that moment was stars. And a bit of her own blood.

Hands gripped her head and, though she was still reeling from the blow, she felt herself being thrown. She hit the wall with a pained moan, widening her eyes in an effort to clear her head. Light, that guy packed a wallop! Somehow she managed to maintain her hold on _saidar_, but for the life of her she could not yet manage to begin a weave. The flows slipped away as soon as she grasped them. It was all she could do to keep the blackness from swallowing her.

Hands gripped her again, dragging her to her feet. The sound of her skirts ripping as her feet got tangled in them seemed louder than a hammer hitting stone. "You should've surrendered when you had the chance," a deep voice growled as a hand gripped her hair and roughly yanked her head back. She knew that voice…it belonged to the first man, the dark-haired one. "Your death could've been painless." In an instant, his hand moved from her hair to her throat. He squeezed slightly, just barely hindering her ability to breathe. If he had meant to kill her, she would already be dead. That knowledge should have chilled her to the bone. "But after what you've done…now we'll make you beg for it. Just as we will do for al'Thor."

Beg for death? Make _Rand_ beg for death? The threat made her anger flare. Her vision finally began to clear somewhat, though her head was still throbbing. The only thing keeping her conscious was sheer determination, fury, and fear of what these louts would do to her if she _did_ give in to the wound. She forced her deep blue gaze to meet his fairly blurry black one as he moved, pressing her against the wall. Something pushed against her connection to the True Source, too. A shield. Her hold on _saidar_ was too solid for it to slide into place, but he was strong. Too strong. If she did not end this soon, she would not survive. Or, worse, he would fulfill his promise and she would _wish_ she hadn't survived. Her anger flashed, red hot, filling her so that there was no room for anything else. Suddenly nothing mattered more than killing this fool before he could hurt her. Before he could hurt Rand. So, as soon as his body was against hers, she struck.

She weaved Fire and Air in an instant, a simple weave that almost slipped from her grasp before she could form it. Only almost. Though he had enough sense to try to defend himself against it, it did little good. His body blazed like the sun as he flew backward, and as soon as he hit the floor, he started to roll around in a frantic attempt to put out the fire. It was not enough to stop him, though. No sooner than his body ceased burning did she sense him channeling something at her. Something bad, she was certain. She sliced it with Fire, starting a weave she had only done once before. The weave was intricate, and as she did it she had to franticly defend two more bloody attacks from the man. That his attacks nearly succeeded shook her. He was really beginning to irritate her and was, by far, the best of the five men in the room. And the strongest in the One Power, from what she could tell. She had to finish him. Now.

Even as she focused all her energy on the dark-haired man, she saw the other one—the blonde—rushing her from the side. With her sword, no less. Blood and ashes, the goat-kisser was going to skewer her with her own sword! Sweat beaded on her brow and time seemed to slow to a crawl. Her head was throbbing too much for her to manage another weave. She could either defend against the attack from the blonde, splitting her efforts and effectively dragging out the fight with the dark-haired man, or take the blow and finish this infernal battle. The choice was an easy one.

A strange feeling of serenity washed over her at having chosen her course of action. Without the slightest hesitation, she threw everything she had into the weave of Fire, Water, Earth, and Air that she aimed at the dark-haired man. Though he tried to defend against it, he was too slow. Just barely. His eyes widened an instant before his body blew apart, pieces of flesh and bone filling the air and raining down to the floor. Only his head remained intact, though the blood that flowed from it boiled on the marble floor, melting it slightly. She had no time to celebrate, or to be completely horrified by the sight, however, because at the same moment her very worthy opponent died an ugly death, her blade was driven through her shoulder.

Somehow she managed to take the pain without screaming, though _saidar_ suddenly slipped from her grasp completely. In a frenzied effort, she reached for it again and held on for dear life when she felt the True Source fill her. The pain in her shoulder and head intensified, making it difficult to meld any flows. The man twisted the blade. This time, she _did_ scream, but she did not give up. She continued her attempt to form a weave even as she, with trembling fingers, reached for one of the small daggers she had hidden on her body. _As long as you draw breath, you fight, _her father had always said. You only gave up when you were dead. And she was not dead yet. Not yet.

"Now we'll see what—"

His words stopped abruptly when he suddenly flew backwards. The sword fell from her shoulder and hit the floor with a loud clang. Though her knees threatened to buckle under her and leave her on the floor as well, leaning against the wall helped to keep her on her feet. Her breath coming in ragged spurts, she looked away from the man who had stabbed her. A dark-haired Asha'man stood nearby, looming over the other man like vengeance itself. He was much taller than her, nearly as tall as Logain. The weave she had tied off around herself earlier told her the newcomer was channeling, but she did not need that to see the promise of death in his hazel eyes. "Don't kill him," she managed to choke out, not yet releasing her grip on her dagger or on _saidar_. Her voice sounded foreign to her ears. Strained. "He may have information the Lord Dragon needs, Asha'man…?"

"Algar Teel," the man finished for her before glancing at the man on the floor. "Very well." He channeled yet another weave, one that left the man on the floor screaming and sobbing. "Better severed than dead, Dal, though were I you I wouldn't count on a very long life." The Asha'man turned away from Dal, letting his gaze fall on Elnore. Shaking his head, he moved toward her. "You did all this yourself?"

Her gaze went to Dal, then to the destruction that had been wrought about the large room. Pieces of stone littered the room, but it was the blood and flesh that were splattered upon those pieces that caused bile to rise in Elnore's throat. She had not only killed, but she had done so in a violent manner. At the time, she had not thought about it—in fighting for her life, it had been instinct that guided her rather than planning—but now that she looked upon what she had done, she felt ill.

"You've never killed before."

Her rescuer's voice drew her from her thoughts. When she met his eyes, she half expected to see her own disgust reflected back at her. Instead, he just looked curious. "Before today? No. I had killed Shadowspawn. Not…people."

The man nodded. "It will get easier." Was that supposed to be a good thing? Her father had once told her that taking another life should never become easy, though it might, at times, be necessary. When killing was necessary, you could not afford to reflect on your actions during battle—that had to wait until later. "They were Taim's men. They were evil and meant to harm al'Thor. The last thing you should feel is guilt over killing them."

"I don't." The words came out before she realized the truth of them. That did not cause her to feel less sickened by her actions, however. Still, she had been trained for this. So why was it surprising to see the results? How many times had Rand told her that battles were ugly things? It was never as tidy and perfect as in stories, and even those on the correct side of a battle did not dance through it unscathed. Physically or emotionally.

The man gestured toward the corpse of the Asha'man that had given her the most trouble. "Bohn was nearly as strong as Taim, and bloody talented. You did well."

Elnore snorted, and immediately regretted it when her shoulder and face both began throbbing more. The whimper that escaped her lips shamed her—neither her father nor Rand would have whimpered from such a minor wound! And neither of them would have needed a stranger to save him from a fight. "Not well enough." It was an acknowledgment that he had saved her backside, but it was insufficient. So, after a slight pause, she added, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, though it seems you could've used my help a bit sooner." He touched the side of her face gently and frowned when she flinched. "I can't Heal this, much less your shoulder. Stay here and I'll find—"

"No time for that," she interrupted. "We need to find Rand."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "The Lord Dragon and Log…the M'Hael…sent men to find you. I doubt they'll be pleased if I bring you to them bloodied and barely able to walk."

Elnore pushed herself from the wall, and would have fallen on her face if Algar had not caught her. She pretended not to notice, even when he lifted her sword from the floor and held it out to her. "I can walk well enough." She gestured toward Dal, who was too busy crying over his sudden loss of power to notice anything around him. "Much better than him, I'd wager." The man was clearly broken, but she didn't feel one bit of sympathy for him, not after nearly losing her life at his hands.

He eyed her for a moment, shaking his head and making the same face men often made when they realized a woman was not going to do as they wished. Did they teach that to young boys? "I'm bandaging that wound, then. Otherwise you may bleed out before we get to them." Not waiting for her acquiescence, he pulled a long cloth from his coat pocket and pressed it against the wound. "Hold that there."

She did as he ordered, though she did stick her tongue out at the back of Algar's head when he leaned down to pick up a piece of her ripped skirt so he could tear it into strips for a bandage. As much as she hated to admit it, and she certainly had no intention of admitting it to Algar, had the wall not been there to hold her up, she would have likely fallen on her face. Thankfully, it took him a few minutes to bandage her shoulder. She looked down at it and smiled slightly. Considering he had been forced to make bandages out of a dress, Algar had done a good job. More impressive was the fact he had tied the strips around her arm and shoulder in such a way that had caused her shoulder to throb less. Even her mother would have been impressed. "Thank you," she told him. "But now we need to get to Rand."

Taking a deep breath, and gently easing herself away from the wall, she turned her attention to Dal, who was still sitting on the floor crying like a baby. "Get up." He didn't move, which annoyed her. Her face was swollen so badly that one eye was almost completely closed and her head was pounding. She had been stabbed with her own sword and, despite the bandages helping matters, her shoulder still throbbed. If she could bloody well walk—actually stumble was nearer to the truth—then he could bloody well move on his own, even if she had to light a fire under him to make him do it.

"The lady said get up," Algar said blandly, dragging Dal to his feet and giving him a push.

The severed Asha'man fell to his knees, cursing everyone and everything in existence and swearing that he would never help Rand. Elnore clenched her teeth and let out a short breath. She was in no mood for this. "You're going to help Rand, one way or another," she said coldly. "Now get up and move before you try my patience." Unsurprisingly, Dal did not cooperate. Not immediately, at any rate. When she was finished with him, however, he was more than happy to move.

* * *

Clearly on the very edge of control, Rand continued to channel _saidin_ through _Callandor_. He silently regarded the twelve prisoners Logain had assembled. All but one of them looked fit to burst into tears as they realized they would likely never touch the One Power again. The only one of Taim's supporters that stood arrogantly regarding the Dragon Reborn was one Logain knew well, one the world would be better off without. Knowing his opinion would not be welcome, however, Logain stayed silent.

Rand stepped before him and stared down into the Asha'man's eyes. "What is your name, boy?"

"Tarek Adar," was the cold reply from the severed channeler.

Smiling coldly, consumed by his battle with _saidin_, Rand spoke loud enough for all in the room to hear, "Taim's rebellion is undone. You know where he is. Tell me and be spared."

With an emotionless expression, Logain watched the scene before him unfold. Did Rand really expect Taim's men, severed or not, to give him information about their 'leader'? These men were hardened far more than the other men at the farm, and the special training they had received from Taim himself made them dangerous foes. Conquering them would have taken much longer had Rand not had _Callandor_. Actually, without _Callandor_, Logain was not entirely convinced they would have managed to conquer Taim's followers at all.

True to form, and proving himself Taim's man to the end, Tarek glared at the Dragon for several long moments before spitting in his face.

Rand did not bother wiping the spittle from his eyes. "You are a fool! I could wipe you from the Pattern itself with the power at my command." After a long pause, he stepped behind the prisoner and continued, "Your very existence could be completely undone by my whim. Yet, I will spare you that so others may yet learn by your foolishness."

As Rand placed an arm around the man's neck, Tarek spoke, "Taim said you were weak. He will—" The sentence lay unfinished in the air as Rand snapped the prisoner's neck in one quick motion.

Sighing inwardly, Logain let his gaze drift over the other prisoners. If he had his choice, every man in the room would meet the same fate as Tarek. But, even as the M'Hael, he knew it was not his choice. Rand had made a mistake in allowing Taim full reign over the Asha'man; it was not a mistake he would make again, even if he trusted Logain. And Logain did not delude himself into believing Rand trusted him. Tolerated, yes. Trusted, no. In the man's position, Logain, grudgingly, knew he would have felt the same.

A foreboding silence overtook the room as Rand prepared to address the remaining prisoners. "You're injured."

Logain's eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to the door just in time to see Elnore stumble into room, pushing a half-sobbing Asha'man ahead of her. Algar Teel strode in only a step behind her, but whereas he was without so much as a scratch, she looked terrible. One side of her face was swollen so badly that her eye was completely closed, she had a makeshift bandage covering her shoulder, and she was covered in blood. And…were those pieces of flesh? Logain felt bile rise in his throat but he forced it back down. The girl's dress was torn, both at the top and the skirt, which now was ripped raggedly above her knees, showing a great deal of her very shapely legs. His brow creased into a frown. What had the girl done? Besides capture...Dal, that was his name. Logain recognized the man, though he didn't appear to be in very good shape either.

Despite the fact that she had the look of a woman determined not to accept any help, Logain moved toward her as she pushed her prisoner to his knees, but before he could get to her, Rand was already there trying to Heal her.

"I'm fi—" the girl began, her words cutting off when Rand placed his free hand up on her wound and brought the full force of _Callandor_ to bear. Elnore's back arched and the grinding of her teeth resounded about the room as the sword's power took hold.

Wincing at the weakness he saw in her eyes, Logain moved toward her in time to keep her from collapsing onto the floor. "I've got you," he whispered to her as she shuddered and tried to regain her balance. Her lithe fingers wrapped around his wrist for only a moment, squeezing lightly as if in thanks, before she straightened her spine and gestured toward her prisoner.

Ignoring her, Rand turned his attention to Algar. His voice was as hard as steel when he spoke. "Explain this."

"I found her in one of the training rooms with five Asha'man," Algar answered calmly. When he had seen the man earlier, and the Dragon Pin on his coat, Logain had been certain he was Taim's man, but Androl had assured him that Algar's loyalties were with Rand. And the Black Tower. He prayed Androl had not judged the man wrongly. It seemed Rand had the same thoughts. "Four of them were dead." Logain looked at the girl, raising one eyebrow. She had taken out _four_ of Taim's men? "And Dal here, he was…" He trailed off, glancing at Elnore.

"Dal had just run me through with my own blade," she finished without hesitation, though her tone was oddly dry. "Algar pulled my bacon off the coals, Rand."

Rand turned his gray gaze to the girl, though it seemed emotionless. "You said you wished to help. You're no good to anyone if you're dead." He did not pause long enough for Elnore to respond. "In the future, be more careful."

"Yes, Rand."

Nodding his approval, Rand looked to Algar once again. "You did well. Go help the others clean up the mess and tend to the wounded." Algar saluted Rand, fist to chest, then turned on his heel and left. Gesturing toward Tarek Adar's corpse, Rand addressed Elnore's prisoner, "I expect you can tell me more of Taim's location than this hapless fool."

Honestly, Logain didn't expect this questioning to end any differently than the last, and the silence that reigned for several minutes nearly proved him correct. It was only when Elnore grabbed her prisoner by the hair and jerked his head back that he realized things might go a bit differently this time. Maybe.

"Do you remember what I did to you on our way here?" Her voice was silk-encased steel, soft but deadly. Dal shivered, and it was hard to miss the fear in his gaze. What had she done to him to cause that look? Taim's men were known for fearing nothing. "Unless you'd like me to do it again, I suggest you tell the Lord Dragon what he wants to know."

"Tell him nothing!" a man on the other side of the room spat. "The Aes Sedai witch cannot hurt you! Al'Thor is nothing! He's—" The man's tirade faded into a terrified scream that left him curled up in a ball on the floor.

Logain looked to Rand and immediately realized that it was not he who was hurting the other man. It was Elnore.

"I am no Aes Sedai," she growled, turning her attention away from the still screaming man and back to her prisoner. Though her grip on Dal was unyielding, Logain noticed her hands were shaking. Badly. "Talk. Now."

"B-but I-" Dal's words dissolved into a primal wail of pain. Though he flailed about, she held him firmly by the hair. "T-tar…V-val…" All of a sudden, his body went limp, yet she still did not release him.

"Tar Valon?" she asked quietly. It took a moment for the man to find the strength to nod, at which point she prompted him further, demanding to know where in Tar Valon, as well as why.

He whimpered, but made no effort to resist her. "Tremalking Splice. H-he's meeting Adelorna Bastine and some others from the White Tower. M-making a deal of some sort…that's all I know!"

Elnore considered the man for a moment before dropping him. He crumpled to the floor, whimpering as he drew his knees to his chest. Her gaze dropped, and had Logain not been watching her so intently he would have missed her distraught expression. The pain in her eyes. By the time she looked back to Rand, however, her expression was one of hardened determination. "Are we going to go there? I think we should." Drawing in a deep breath, she glanced at Logain. "But before we do, there's something you probably need to know. Something that may help."

At first Logain was curious as to what kind of information she could offer, especially since she was clearly not an Aes Sedai, but when she began speaking, his jaw dropped. Except for Rand, whose expression remained unchanged, the rest of the men in the room had the same reaction. As she quickly explained the situation to Rand, however, Logain became sure of one thing—either this girl was insane or she had a very interesting story to tell. A story he fully intended to hear.

His gaze went to Rand, whose expression was unreadable. The silence in the room was palpable, everyone waiting to see what Rand would do next. They did not have to wait long.

With a series of intricate weaves, which Logain barely had time to discern, Rand extinguished the life from the prisoners assembled about the room. As their soulless bodies hit the floor, he continued channeling. Diverting his gaze from Logain and Elnore, the Dragon Reborn drew on the full power of _Callandor_ to shield them both before either could react.

"Taim is my problem, and I will deal with him." Opening a gateway, one through which Logain could see the streets of Tar Valon, Rand stepped through and left them behind.

Logain wasted no time, and immediately began pushing against the shield. Ever since he had been captured by those wretched Aes Sedai, he had been unable to stand the very thought of being shielded!

"Stupid, son of a flaming goat-kissing, Trolloc licking—"

"Elnore, that's not helping," he interrupted, his voice strained as he turned his attention to her. The girl looked ready to chew steel. Not that he could blame her. "I can't break this shield."

Her head swung toward him and she gave him a look that was probably meant to wither him. She seemed irked that it failed, but unsurprised. "Blood and bloody ashes," she muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear. "Of course you can't break it. You can only break shields if you're much stronger than the person who shielded you, but..." She trailed off, her features set in concentration. "Feel for the points and unravel them. He put a bloody complex shield on us, too. Should've known he'd use that, the bloody..."

"Points?" Logain repeated. What in the name of the Creator was the girl talking about? But, as he kept struggling against the shield, he realized what she meant. The shield had points, hard ones. After unraveling the first, he let out a satisfied sigh. "Ah, I see." Unfortunately, there were a great many of those points, and some seemed more difficult to unravel than others. It was the points that caused jolts of pain through his body that made him more cautious in his unraveling, however.

"Hurry up!" Clearly free from her shield, Elnore paced the room, finally coming to stand in front of him. How had she managed to do that so quickly? Glaring at him impatiently, she tapped her foot. "Bloody hells!" What sort of curse was that? "Do you want me to do it for you?" He ignored her, hoping it would shut her up. That turned out to be a futile wish. "I guess we should be thankful he didn't take more bloody time to shield us or it would have taken us both a long time to get free!" Though he offered no response, he did not disagree with her point. Not that she paused long enough for him to utter a word. "And where is this Tremalking Splice place? I guess it's in Old Tar Valon, but...I mean...umm..."

He stopped his efforts to look at her, his gaze narrowing. She grimaced and squirmed under his gaze, looking like a child caught stealing a pie. Old Tar Valon? Sighing, he shook his head. He didn't have time to worry over it now. "When this is over, you and I are going to talk. I have questions. And not just about that ring you're wearing." That ring. More than the tidbits she had let slip to Rand, more than her reference to Tar Valon as if it had been renamed, he wanted to know where she had gotten that bloody ring.

"All right," she agreed with a grimace, looking at him as though he'd used that tone with her before, "but we need to get to Rand. There's no telling what Taim will do."

Nodding, he went back to unraveling the shield that blocked him from _saidin_. "I agree."

Unraveling the shield proved more difficult than it should have been, likely due to Elnore's impatient huffing. It didn't help that she was stomping around the room muttering about not being able to fight in a dress, either. That nearly made him smile, however. It wasn't often a man got to enjoy the sight of a lady's legs, but with Elnore's skirt ripped far above her knees, he had quite the view. His expression quickly turned morose when he remembered what had caused her to be in such a state. She had successfully faced five of Taim's men? Well, four. From what she had said, it was clear she never would have survived Dal had it not been for Algar's interference.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do that for you? It would go much quicker!"

The scathing glance he shot her was enough to make her mouth snap closed, but it did not stop her from staring at him expectantly. As he unraveled another point, she began tapping her foot again, then, after a brief pause, she sighed impatiently. Blood and bloody ashes!

"Elnore, you standing there tapping your foot and huffing is not helping me get this done any quicker," Logain said crossly. It had only been a few minutes since she had managed to free herself from her own shield—he still wanted to know how she did that so quickly—yet the way she behaved, one would have thought she had been waiting years. The woman had no patience at all.

The smile she gave him was much too sweet to be genuine. "I offered to do it for you...like three bloody days ago."

He raised an eyebrow at her dry tone. "It hasn't been that long, and besides…" Pausing, he unraveled the last of the shield and winked at her. "I'm done."

Her eyes lit up at that bit of news. "Thank the Light! Come on, we have to go after Rand and—"

"Guards are in place as you and the Lord Dragon requested."

Logain's gaze moved to the doorway, where Vinchova was standing proudly. The boy looked a bit worse for wear, but he didn't appear to be seriously injured. "Vinchova, you—"

"You need to be Healed," Elnore said, speaking right over him as though he weren't there. "Unfortunately I can't do it, since my Healing tends to turn people into corpses"—Logain's eyes nearly popped out of his skull at that but the girl just continued as though she had said nothing surprising—"so you can either send someone back to fetch Damer or go find Declan. Logain and I have to leave, though."

"Elnore, not yet." Logain closed the distance between them, taking off his coat and placing it around her shoulders to help cover the torn bodice of her dress. "I'll get some men to come with us. And make sure the Tower is locked down first. It won't do any good to chase after Rand if Taim brings the men who escaped during the battle and wreaks havoc in the meantime."

She glared stubbornly at him, planting her hands on her hips the same way all women did when they were about to insist on doing something foolish. "We don't need anyone else. Besides, Rand needs our help _now_, not later. Things here are under control and there are men guarding the whole bloody place. If any of Taim's men come back here, they'll be burned to ash and you know it. Rand is facing Taim and the Creator only knows _who_ else all by himself. We need to go."

Logain raised an eyebrow. "All by himself. With _Callandor_. And that was after leaving us shielded and informing us he didn't want our help." Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Vinchova staring at his hands, though the boy was clearly fighting the urge to laugh.

The girl harrumphed and rolled her eyes dramatically, the action making her look no older than Vinchova. "I'm going."

"No," he told her firmly, "you're going to wait a bloody minute while I gather a few men to bring with us."

"Then you can meet me there," she said with a derisive snort, just before she opened a gateway nearby and stepped through.

"Bloody…" He trailed off, grinding his teeth together just before hurrying through after her and yelling back to Vinchova, "You're in charge until we get back!"

Even as the gateway inked out behind him and he crashed into Elnore, he heard the boy yell back, "Me? What did _I_ do?", but he was too focused on trying not to squash Elnore to worry about Vinchova's aversion to leading. As they fell to the ground—no, the floor—Logain attempted to turn them both at the last moment. He almost succeeded.

She grunted and coughed, the air rushing painfully out of her lungs as she wriggled to get away from him. "You know," she began dryly, struggling to get to her feet, "if you want to grope me, you could have just asked."

Logain laughed out loud at that. It had sounded, vaguely, like an invitation. Before he had a chance to respond, however, she was already on her feet. Letting out a long breath, he pushed himself up and looked around the dimly lit room. "I thought you were going after Rand."

"I needed to change first, which means you need to go." Change first? He put a hand to his forehead and sighed. He was getting a flaming headache. Only a bloody woman would rant about going to help a man one minute, going as far to run off alone to see it done, then be concerned about her clothing the next! Sometimes he wondered if the whole lot of them was insane. "I said you need to go." She pushed him backwards toward the door, but he didn't budge. Strong as she was, and she was quite strong for her size, she was no match for him. That fact appeared to annoy her, so she huffed loudly. "Fine, suit yourself." And, with that, the girl began stripping off what was left of her dress. Right in front of him. He watched, wide-eyed, as she walked to the chair, in her smallclothes, no less, and grabbed what looked to be a pair of trousers. It was hard to tell with the room as dark as it was, but he could see enough. Never in his life had he seen women's smallclothes that looked like _that_.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched, amused, as she wiggled into the tight pants. Light! They were leather. The anger emanating from her was so intense that he could almost see it, but something told him her anger was more about Rand than about him seeing her half-clothed. It became more obvious that he was right when she began putting on her top, if one could call it that. Black leather, just like her pants, it was short-sleeved and had a bit of violet-tinted velvet around the shoulders where the leather stopped. It seemed to have some type of strange buttons on the front that popped as she fastened them.

She smirked as she bent over to pull on her boots. When she rose again, she quickly unbraided her hair and shook it out so it fell long and loose. Truthfully, he was impressed that she could change clothes so quickly. "There, much better," she announced, giving him a look that could've melted steel. "I'm ready."

With a nod, Logain grasped _saidin_ and opened a gateway, gesturing for her to go first. "After you, my dear…"

As the gateway closed behind the departing forms of Elnore and Logain, a figure stirred in the shadows.

"I don't know why I bothered coming here. A pretty girl bats her eyelashes and says `Rand needs you' and I rush off like a Light-blinded woolhead. Then they take off on some crazy adventure and leave me behind. That's fine with me. Channelers fighting channelers—that's nasty business I want no part in. But isn't there somewhere a sane man can get a short nap without half-clad women tearing off their clothes and dashing away without a `how do you do?' The loons have the run of this place, if you ask me."

Mat rolled over on the bed and grunted before closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.


	10. Chapter 9 The Tremalking Splice

_**Chapter 9**_

_**The Tremalking Splice**_

* * *

Mazrim Taim was stark raving mad.

Whether from the taint on _saidin_—whatever madness a man suffered before al'Thor cleansed the male half of the True Source would surely still exist—or simply from a diseased mind, Adelorna was certain Mazrim Taim was insane. It was the only explanation for the demands he made, for the promises he wanted from her and the other Ajah Heads in return for his assistance in bringing Elaida to justice. No sane person would have believed such demands would be met, much less have had the gall to make them in the first place. Had it not been such a grave matter, Adelorna would have laughed in the fool's face. Instead, she chose diplomacy; they needed to make this deal and end the Tower split once and for all. That did not mean, however, that Taim would get what he wanted.

"Some of what you ask for might be workable," she finally said once she found her voice again. "But not all. You must realize you ask too much."

A smug smile played on the Saldaean man's lips. "Perhaps. I believe I might be able to offer you something more, though." He turned his head and nodded to the Asha'man who was standing guard by the door that led from the back room of the inn into the alleyway. "Bring her in."

Nodding, the guard slipped out the door only to return a second later with a girl in tow. No, not a girl.

Adelorna's eyes narrowed slightly when she recognized the Green sister. Not long raised to the shawl, Alarra had always had a natural confidence about her, most likely due to her noble upbringing. She had always drawn Adelorna's attention when she was an Accepted, not for her mediocre strength in the One Power, but for her composure. Little rattled her. The young woman had truly made a good Green. At the moment, however, she seemed to be having problems walking.

Raising an eyebrow at Taim was enough to prompt him to inform her, "The girl is difficult, more difficult than the others. We had to physically bind her, as well as block her from the True Source." He snorted disdainfully. "Of course, she does have her uses. Unlike Mishraile and myself, who can merely tell you what we saw at Dumai's Wells, Alarra can give a firsthand account as to Elaida's orders regarding al'Thor. The ones she failed to share with the rest of your lot." The fact that he called the Dragon Reborn by his last name, and with little respect, did not escape Adelorna's notice. Now was not the time to address it, however. "She also carries copies of the orders, though she has done something to ward them. I feared if I tried to break the ward, the papers would prove useless. But perhaps she will prove more cooperative for you."

So this was what he was holding back, why he was convinced he could extort whatever he wished from the White Tower. The word of an Aes Sedai, and copies of orders, would definitely carry more weight at the Tower than the word of two Asha'man. It could be just what they needed to depose Elaida. If it were true, at least.

Her gaze went to Alarra. "Does he speak the truth? Did you see Elaida's orders, the ones that gave the embassy permission to torture the boy? And what of the orders to kill every man at the Black Tower? Do you actually have a copy of those orders, as well?"

The woman's slight nod was all that was needed. Alarra had never been one for histrionics, even when the situation called for it. "I suspected there was more to this assignment than what we were told, so before we left for the Black Tower, I…" Licking her lips Alarra smiled slightly before finishing, "I visited Elaida's office and searched for a copy of the orders Toveine was given, which I learned of, anyway, once we had neared the Black Tower. Along with the copy of Toveine's orders, I found this." Without pause, she closed the distance between herself and Adelorna, then pulled a scroll from her belt pouch and placed it on the table. After a moment, she pulled yet another scroll from her belt pouch, placing it on the table next to the first.

At her side, Serancha bristled, but Adelorna calmly took the scrolls without a word. She knew Alarra well enough to know how she had managed such subterfuge. As a girl, she had always excelled at getting into places undetected. It was not a skill many Greens possessed, and this was not the first time it had proven useful for the Green Ajah. "The orders?" she asked quietly.

Alarra glanced to Taim and the other Asha'man, her eyes narrowing. Adelorna understood her hesitation. Speaking of Tower business in front of anyone was against custom, if not Tower law itself; speaking of Tower business in front of men—men who could channel, no less—was madness. Yet, there was little choice. And these men already knew most of what Alarra would say. After several silent moments passed, Alarra seemed to realize that truth as well. "Elaida ordered the sisters to break al'Thor so he would be ready to swear fealty to her. Personally. She wanted him completely docile and told the 'embassy' she sent to him to do whatever was necessary to complete that task, even if it meant using unorthodox methods. Particularly force." The girl let out a sad sigh and gestured toward the scroll. "She stressed that it would not be breaking Tower law since the very lives of Sisters were at stake." She paused. "The other orders, the ones regarding our visit to the Black Tower, were to kill every man there. Whether or not he could channel."

It took all of Adelorna's effort not to growl. For some time, she had believed Elaida to merely be a misguided fool. Unfortunately, that description did not even begin to cover Elaida's idiocy. "The ward?"

Alarra smiled slightly, clearly understanding the unspoken question. "The one you taught me."

Stuffing the scrolls into her belt pouch, Adelorna turned to Taim. "We can now discuss your newest requests. I am sure we will find—"

The door that led to the alley outside exploded inward, not only stopping Adelorna's words but also causing her to drop behind the table for cover. Every woman in the room, every one who was capable, grasped _saidar_ so she could defend herself if need be. But not one of them was prepared for what happened next.

"Protect the M'Hael!" someone yelled as all the men in the room launched into action.

Everything happened in an instant. By the time Adelorna looked up from behind the table, Taim and all the men who accompanied him, save one—one of the guards, a lone man crumpled lifelessly on the floor—were jumping through a hole that suddenly appeared in the middle of the room. A gateway. She already knew the Asha'man had rediscovered Traveling, yet a part of her had hoped it to be no more than a rumor; still another part was filled with envy. Either way, seeing it with her own two eyes was quite different than merely hearing tales.

Adelorna's gaze went to the only man left in the now partially demolished room, the man whose arrival had caused the commotion. She would have known him anywhere, though she had never laid eyes on him before. Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn, in all his glory, was wielding _Callandor_. Alone.

Did the fool boy not know of the problems with the sword that was not a sword? It was not safe for him!

As the gateway closed, her attention was diverted briefly by the sound of something bouncing across the floor. That very something came to an abrupt halt at her feet. Leaning down, she picked it up and turned it over in her hand before rising to her feet. The statue was not very large, but something told her it was important, especially given that it had apparently come from one of the men as they were rushing through their gateway. It was an odd little statue, in the shape of a fat man.

"Forgive the intrusion, Adelorna," al'Thor began with a slight inclination of his head, as though he had already met her. "I sought the traitor, Taim, yet it appears he has eluded me. Despite my better judgment, I was warned the agreement to be forged in this room is far more important than taking the life of an adversary, even one as duplicitous as Mazrim Taim." He paused, that hawk-like gray gaze of his leaving her feeling as though it were piercing her very soul. "Know this, Taim's voice is not my own. Still, I am here to forge an agreement with you and, through you, the White Tower itself."

That the boy named Taim a traitor was unsurprising. With a man like Taim, it was no small wonder the boy found him to be a threat. She did have to wonder, though, what had taken him so long to reach the obvious conclusion.

"Before we negotiate a treaty, I would first like you to tell me how you plan to deal with the two competing Amyrlins." The question was directed at her, as though he had assumed she was the leader of this meeting. It was not far from the truth. But how did _he_ know that? "I assume you mean to oust Elaida, with just cause. What of the other Amyrlin? Will she be the one to lead the united Tower?"

The other Ajah heads were on edge and still holding _saidar_, but when she gestured slightly to them and released _saidar_ herself, they all followed her example, even if it was somewhat reluctantly. It was clear that al'Thor was on edge, but this was an opportunity she could not let slip away. They had all waited too long to have a chance to talk to him, to deal with him, for her to refuse. It was definitely not the way she had planned it. Well, the Wheel weaved as it willed.

"Yes, Elaida will be deposed," Adelorna declared bluntly, not bothering to behave as though it were not already planned. She settled back into her chair, never taking her gaze from the boy. "We were here to get information to help that along. She is incompetent and refuses to listen to reason. Worse, with her attack on you and the Black Tower, she has broken many Tower laws. Once she is deposed, she will be stilled, birched, and sent to a work farm to live out the rest of her days."

The man's face was as emotionless as stone, even when given such knowledge. Part of the prophecies came to mind while facing him, that the stone had to learn laughter and tears. She prayed that would happen soon.

Clearing her throat, she continued, "As for the child, Egwene al'Vere, she will be put in Accepted white. She is not an Aes Sedai, and she is guilty of many of the breaches of custom of which Elaida is guilty. My eyes and ears have reported just how great her desire for power and control is. That does not mean, however, that we believe she is lost to us. She simply requires more training and maturity before she will be ready for the shawl. She is talented and that talent can be used in the coming battles if she learns to put it to good use, but, for now, she is too arrogant. She must be taught humility." Her expression softened, if only a bit. "I realize she is your childhood friend, but I can not, I _will_ not, allow that to affect what must be done. If she is to be Aes Sedai, then she must face the consequences for her actions. It is that simple."

Moments ticked by as the boy the Pattern had chosen to defend it sat in silence. _Callandor_ glowed in his grasp, bringing light into the now dimly lit room, yet his gaze looked past it. To what, Adelorna was not certain. What she would have given to glimpse into the boy's mind…

A slow smile came to the boy's lips as he stepped over the corpse on the floor, causing her curiosity to grow. The screech of two heavy chairs being dragged across the floor broke the moment and drew her attention from the boy. Though the chairs seemed to move of their own will, she knew it was the boy's doing. The work of _saidin_. At her side, Suana shuddered; Adelorna showed no reaction, however. If the Tower was to effectively handle this boy, as well as the rest of the Asha'man, Aes Sedai could not flinch every time they witnessed a man channeling.

That gray gaze drifted over each woman there, and though the young man had affected a superior, if somewhat bored demeanor, Adelorna had no doubt he had noticed Suana's reaction. Only a flicker of amusement—or was it wariness?—flashed in his eyes before he lazily eased himself into one of the chairs he had moved, propping his feet up on the other as though it were a footstool.

"I appreciate your candor…Mother," Rand al'Thor announced dryly after dramatically clearing his throat. Though the other Ajah Heads stirred at the boy's apparent mistake, Adelorna merely regarded him with an appraising gaze. He was astute, she would give him that. He also spoke to her, and the others, as though he were speaking to those who were equal to him. The behavior conflicted greatly with the stories she had heard; if the boy feared Aes Sedai, why would he intentionally provoke them? No one else dared speak to an Aes Sedai as such. Even kings and queens treaded lightly when dealing with a sister. For good reason. "Tell me of the agreement you sought with Taim, and perhaps we can salvage a bit from the gross breach of authority on his part." He paused, jaw tightening as though he were struggling with some sort of internal conflict, then gestured toward the statue of the fat man she still held, "I am certain our wants are mutual. Yet as a token of your intent, I ask you return what belongs to me."

Despite the lightheadedness she suddenly felt, she tossed the statue to him without a thought. He caught it midair, regarding her with a gaze that held no emotion. She had no doubt she had just been caught in his _ta'veren_ swirl. He was thought to be a stronger _ta'veren_ than even Hawkwing himself. Had Adelorna doubted it before, she certainly now believed the claim to be true. That the statue was an _angreal_—or _ter'angreal_—was quite apparent now; one for men, of course, or the boy would not have been so determined to get his hands on it. Normally, she never would have given it to him. The White Tower had always laid claim to all _ter'angreal_, _angreal_, and _sa'angreal_, just as they laid claim to all channelers, yet somehow this young man had acquired at least two on his own. It made Adelorna wonder just how many of the Tower's treasures were attuned to _saidin_. With Tarmon Gai'don looming over the horizon, it would be wise to find out. The only way to defeat the Shadow was to put weapons in the hands of those who could be trusted to wield them. Trust. Therein lay the problem.

She cleared her throat, finally finding her voice to tell the boy the information he sought. "First, Elaida's declaration that you are a ward of the White Tower will be rescinded. We do not seek to control you, though we do wish to offer our guidance and support." His jaw tightened, if only a bit. Clearly her choice of words did not sway him. She should have known—with an Aes Sedai, it did not take long for anyone to realize that guidance and control were one and the same. Regardless, she refused to stop now.

"You will need it in the coming days, just as the world needs you." She kept her tone calm. Best for all of them that he not realize she was attempting to soothe his ego. Young men's egos were such fragile things. "Second, we will implement a formal alliance with the Black Tower." If she had expected him to show any reaction to that, she would have been disappointed. Luckily, she had no such foolish expectations. "Tower law will be amended regarding male channelers. No longer will we hunt them as we have done since the Breaking. No longer will they be tried and gentled. No longer will it be a criminal offense for a man to be able channel." That promise _did_ get a reaction, albeit a small one. It was not much, but any progress was welcome. "Taim had his own demands. Some interesting ones, but we had not yet decided on those."

The boy said nothing, though something in his gray gaze flickered at the mention of Taim. He quickly caught hold of himself, fixing her with a stare. Waiting. There was no need for him to state his thoughts—what she was offering was not enough. But how much more did he want? How much more was she willing to give?

Taking a deep breath, Adelorna gestured toward Lemai, Alarra, and Chloe, the three sisters Taim and his men had brought with him. The three were huddled near the wall, where they had retreated when al'Thor arrived. "They were to be bargaining chips. To oust Elaida once and for all, we need proof of her blunders, including her attack on you." For a moment, her tone softened and the normal Aes Sedai coolness was replaced by a small amount of warmth. "On behalf of the Tower, I apologize for what happened to you. When we agreed to send an embassy, we did not know Elaida's true intentions. The plan she presented to the Hall centered on using gold to lure you." Her apology caused another flicker in those gray eyes, this time of surprise. An Aes Sedai never apologized, she knew; it was not the way of the White Tower. If there was ever a time to break Tower custom, it was now. And the boy _did_ deserve an apology for what he had suffered.

Her gaze did not waver, but she could not stop the sad sigh that escaped her. "I realize that does not excuse the sisters who followed her order, and if my sources are correct, I understand those sisters are now under your control. I take no issue with that." For now. Once this boy was firmly under her guidance, she would see to it those sisters were freed. No Aes Sedai should be on the wrong side of a bond, no matter the circumstances. "However, I do need these three to come with me, if only temporarily. The three were bonded by Asha'man during the attack on the Black Tower—another of Elaida's mistakes—and they have information we need. Afterward we can discuss—"

"Are any of you bonded to Taim or his men?" al'Thor interrupted coldly, looking away from Adelorna to the three sisters in question. After a slight hesitation, Lemai nodded. "Who?"

"Mishraile," the Red spat, her voice filled with hatred. "He is Taim's second in command. Chloe and Alarra were bonded by two of the others." She inhaled sharply. "Earlier today, Taim and his men killed the men who had originally bonded us. We were too weak to fight after the bonds snapped. So we were bonded yet again."

At Adelorna's side, Suana gasped. So the bonds had snapped. It was a wonder the three women survived it. In her many years as a Green, she had seen what happened to Warders whose Aes Sedai died, how they nearly went insane with grief and fell into a depression so deep that they had no will to survive. Was it different when the one who was bonded could channel as well? For the first time since she had arrived at the meeting, she truly looked at the three women Taim had brought with him to the meeting. There was death in their gazes. Pain. Whether it was equal to or less than what an Aes Sedai's Warder felt when his mistress passed, she could not say. Even if it was, Adelorna had trouble feeling sympathy for any of the three women. Perhaps it was apt punishment for their foolishness.

Looking back to Rand, Adelorna drew in a deep yet silent breath. She knew, without asking, what he was thinking. In his shoes, she would have likely have come to the same conclusion. When she spoke, she kept her tone calm, "With their bonds, they can lead you to Taim's men and, most likely Taim himself. But first I need them to give witness to Elaida's orders and actions. When that is done, I can send them to you, along with a formal agreement that includes all I have offered thus far." She paused. "So, I suppose the question is, are those terms acceptable to you?"

A formidable silence fell over the room as she awaited his response. She watched him closely, not surprised that his gaze grew even colder. Had she been a lesser woman, she would have shivered. Every muscle in the boy's face tightened visibly, as though he were waging some sort of internal war. _Callandor_ brightened. Dimmed. Brightened again. She reached for, but did not embrace, _saidar_. Though she did not wish to alarm him by grasping the True Source, she wanted to be ready for whatever came.

For several moments, the sword continued to flicker. Did he not have full control of _saidin_? Had the taint already taken him? Her mind searched for possibilities, but when _Callandor_ suddenly ceased glowing, and the boy slumped into the chair as though he were completely exhausted, she decided to let the matter rest. The last thing they needed was for him to go mad before he made his journey to Shayol Ghul. The possibility was not one she wished to consider.

The boy let out a small groan, staring at _Callandor_ for a moment before peering sluggishly about the room. He looked weak, something quite likely brought about from channeling too much. With no one to train him, how could he even know? She may not be able to teach him how to wield _saidin_, but there was some knowledge she could impart to him. Knowledge that could help him. All of them.

"If you need Healing, we can help you," she offered smoothly. "But when you channel for too long, or too much, it can cause exhaustion and…" She trailed off when a man entered through what was left of the door that led to the alleyway. The man, Logain Ablar, was all too familiar to Adelorna, though he had been a pathetic sight the last she had last seen him at the White Tower. After being gentled, it was understandable. No more did he seem a sad sight, however. Quite the opposite. As he stepped confidently into the room, his broad shoulders were squared and his strong chin was held high. He looked ready for anything, a wolf hunting its prey. As his gaze fell on al'Thor, though, he relaxed a bit. Only a bit.

Behind him followed a girl in clothes that could only be described as scandalous. The tight black leather trousers hugged her form, as did the leather top. Never had Adelorna seen anything like it! That some of the women in Tar Valon had taken up wearing tight breeches with long jackets was bad enough, but this was worse. So distracted was she by the girl's attire, it took her a moment to notice her face. Light, she looked familiar. Where had she…Adelorna's thoughts abandoned her at once when she realized who the girl resembled.

Many would've been fooled, believing the girl to be Nynaeve al'Meara—if they could get past her choice of dress!—but if that was, indeed, who the girl was attempting to emulate, she was doing a poor job of it. Not only would the child, Nynaeve, never be caught in such clothing, the girl's long, curly black hair hung loose, nearly to her waist, instead of being neatly braided as Nynaeve's always was. More importantly, and perhaps far more disturbing, was what Adelorna felt from the girl. She was stronger in the One Power than any at the Tower. Stronger than Nynaeve al'Meara. Stronger than she and any two of the other three Ajah Heads with her would be if they added their strengths. Who was this girl?

In an instant, Adelorna jerked her gaze back to al'Thor, just in time to see his slight smile. The girl smiled back, her big blue eyes sparkling with adoration. Without a word, she took a place at the right side of his chair while Logain moved behind her.

"You may take _one_ of these three women," the boy announced coldly. Adelorna looked back to him and nearly gave herself a shake. "Whichever you choose. However, Taim is a threat that needs to be removed, and I cannot subjugate that need to yours."

Staring at the three Aes Sedai as though they were his prisoners, he continued, "If the one you choose does not provide the answers you seek, simply return her to me and I will provide another." Suana gasped so loudly that the sound echoed in the room, but al'Thor never paused. "Once Taim is destroyed, all three of them may return to the Tower."

"I will take Alarra," Adelorna stated bluntly, ignoring Rand's 'offer' of trading one sister for another. If this boy thought he could make her quiver in his presence by treating sisters as his possessions, he had quite a bit to learn. She would be more than happy to teach him what Cadsuane had not, though something kept her from putting him in his place. The fact remained that they needed him more than he needed them, so she could not afford to push too hard too quickly. "I do expect, however, that the other two be returned, in good health, to the White Tower once they lead you to Taim." She chose her words carefully, something that he clearly noticed.

"Agreed. Your request is reasonable." He paused for a moment, glancing up at the black-haired girl before turning his gaze back to Adelorna. "I have three other items to add to our agreement. First, any sisters residing at the Black Tower, whether bond-holder or bonded, will be given a choice—swear fealty to the Lord Dragon, or face banishment. They may certainly return to the White Tower if you will have them. It matters not to me where they go, as long as it is away from the Black Tower."

One corner of Adelorna's mouth curled up slightly. So the only Aes Sedai the boy trusted near him were those who had sworn fealty to him? He would have a long wait for any other Aes Sedai to swear to him; though she was perfectly willing to make some concessions to him, the White Tower would never bend knee to him. What's more, she was certain at least some of the Aes Sedai he _chose_ to have near him had not sworn fealty. "Your terms regarding the sisters who have been bonded, as well as those who have bonded your Asha'man, are acceptable. I might remind you, though, that your...advisor...and those with her have not sworn fealty to you and they never will."

Had she not been watching the boy so closely, she might have missed the way his jaw tightened when she made reference to Cadsuane Melaidhrin. The muscle in his right cheek twitched twice before he drew in a silent breath; by the time he released it, he was once again as emotionless as a stone. His reaction was not entirely surprising—Cadsuane treated most everyone like little more than foolish children, and this boy seemed to be asking for such treatment. Usually, Cadsuane managed to break everyone to her will, to somehow push them into voluntarily following her lead without question; unfortunately, it seemed the legendary Green sister had not managed to completely break Rand al'Thor. Yet. Regardless, if just the mention of Cadsuane caused such a noticeable reaction in an otherwise unresponsive boy, then she had certainly made an impression. Adelorna made a mental note of his reaction and vowed to find out later just what had happened between the boy and the woman.

"And," Adelorna continued, keeping her gaze steady, "according to the reports I've seen, the only Aes Sedai to have bonded your men are those close to Cadsuane. So, when you send those women back to the White Tower, keep in mind that their Asha'man Warders will most likely return with them. I know no sister who would allow it any other way."

"Of course not," the dark-haired girl growled softly, "if the bloody women don't have their little slaves under their thumbs at all times, the men might grow brains or backbones and decide to have their bonds removed."

Taken aback, Adelorna stared at the girl. There was fire in her eyes. Anger. Those icy blue eyes of hers challenged anyone to disagree with her obvious disdain for the relationship between Aes Sedai and Warder. That she was so vocal about her feelings—so unconcerned with angering a room full of Aes Sedai—made Adelorna clench her jaw. There was absolutely no fear in the girl's eyes, no wariness.

The boy cleared his throat, drawing Adelorna's attention back to him. Though he seemed to be fighting it, one corner of his mouth curled up a tiny bit. It was the mirth in his eyes that gave way to his feelings, however. The girl had amused him. But did he share her distaste for the bond? The answer to that question came only a brief moment later when the boy spoke coldly, "There was a time when the Tower did not condone the forced bonding of Warder to Sister, or the use of Compulsion, no matter the form. At least one of the sisters who have bonded an Asha'man is guilty of those crimes. This is the foulest form of rape, for it is a violation of these men's very souls. By right, I could have these women stilled or put to death for such atrocities."

For the first time since al'Thor had arrived, Adelorna felt her muscles tense. That he would dare accuse Aes Sedai of bonding men by force—something that had been against custom for many years now—angered her more than she cared to admit, as did his accusation that sisters had used Compulsion on the Asha'man they had bonded. And did he truly believe he had the right to still or execute a sister? She would quickly set him straight! But, as she opened her mouth, he continued, "So to address your concerns, any man who is bonded will be afforded the same dignity as the women and will be allowed to stay, provided he can prove his loyalties lay first with me, and the Black Tower, rather than the woman who bonded him; however, if a way can be found to remove the bond safely, the men will also be offered that choice. Should they choose to leave, their Asha'man status will be revoked, and their ties with the Black Tower severed. The Asha'man are weapons for the coming war. One forced to suffer madness caused by a snapped bond is less than useless in battle."

"That's easy enough to do," the dark-haired girl announced, shrugging slightly when all eyes turned to her. "All you need is one of the bonded pair and the bond can be removed in mere moments, without any harm to either party."

"You are wrong, _child_," Ferane announced haughtily, jerking the white shawl more tightly around her shoulders. "Only the one who initiated the bond can remove it and the Warder must be present. Your information is dreadfully incorrect."

"Actually, _child_, you're the one who doesn't know your backside from a hole in the ground." Before anyone had a chance to react to that insult—though Adelorna swore she heard Logain chuckle—the girl embraced _saidar_ and began to channel. The bright glow around her was so distracting that Adelorna scarcely noticed her weaves. It did not help that the girl weaved as quickly as lightning struck. And her hands never moved. The only thing Adelorna could see, other than the fact that she had used a weave of all five powers, followed by another weave of pure Spirit, was that she had channeled at Alarra. In the time it took to blink, the glow disappeared.

"How did you… That's not possible!" The amazement in Alarra's voice was palpable, but so was the fear. Light, had she really done it? Any Green would fear this ability; though this weave could give freedom to the sisters bonded by the Asha'man, it also meant that men who were bonded could be freed. More importantly, and perhaps more frighteningly, it meant that bonding Asha'man would not solve the problem of how to control the men. If a bond could be so easily removed, no bond was safe. Not unless a Sister kept her Warder with her at all times. This was troubling. The weave presented more problems than it solved. Unless they could alter the bond somehow…

"The bond is actually gone?" Ferane demanded. Adelorna had both Ferane and Alarra in her field of vision, so she missed neither Alarra's nod nor Ferane's sudden paleness at the news. "Any ill effects?"

"No. It's just…gone."

"Guess you learn something new every day, don't you?" the girl at al'Thor's side asked with a superior smirk.

Adelorna watched the entire scene unfurl before her, taking in every reaction: the girl's defiant glare, al'Thor's pensive expression as he considered the meaning of what she had done, the way the other Ajah Heads dissolved into fits of whispering, the alarm on Alarra's normally cool features, and, finally, Logain's frown.

"Elnore," the false Dragon began, "we need them to find Taim." His reprimanding tone earned him an offended look from the girl. Elnore. At least there was finally a name to go with the face.

"I removed the bond for Alarra since she's returning with them to the White Tower." Elnore gave a sheepish shrug, leaving Adelorna feeling as though she had been struck with a whip. How did the girl know enough to recognize Alarra? "I can do the same for the others once they help us find Taim." That promise brought hopeful looks from the other two prisoners, but now was not the time to worry about such things. This meeting was quickly dissolving into a menagerie sideshow; if something wasn't done to bring the focus back where it needed to be—on working out a deal with the boy—then Adelorna feared she would quickly lose the small amount of control she had.

Loudly clearing her throat, Adelorna silenced the other sisters. "Very well. I believe we may move on to your second request."

The boy merely nodded, turning his icy gaze back to her. "A free flow of information between the Towers will go a long way towards fortifying this pact. Logain Ablar, the new M'Hael, will appoint an Asha'man to reside at the White Tower as an emissary. He will, of course, be treated as an honored guest while he is there." He paused, smiling slightly, though the smile never reached his eyes. "And he will have access to the Amyrlin's eyes and ears."

Access to the Amyrlin's eyes and ears? Adelorna felt her jaw clench, rage welling up at the temerity of this boy. It took effort to fight it and maintain her composure. It was instinct to resist such a request, but in reality it made sense with the coming battle, especially since it would have to work both ways. "I agree that a free flow of information is crucial to this alliance. Therefore, I will send a sister of my choosing to the Black Tower"—one who was not subservient to this boy!—"to serve the same purpose that your Asha'man will at the White Tower. The...M'Hael...can put her in touch with all of the Black Tower's informants as well as giving her any information he receives."

For the first time since he had arrived at The Tremalking Splice, Rand al'Thor smiled genuinely. Adelorna knew, before he ever spoke, that she would not like what he had to say. "There is no need to send a sister to the Black Tower. Nynaeve al'Meara of the Yellow Ajah has my ear and my full confidence. She knows what I know, and I am quite certain this is reflected in her reports to the Tower."

Adelorna could have sworn she heard Jesse growl, which was an unusual response from the head of the Brown Ajah. Adelorna managed to swallow her own growl, though she did have to force her jaw to unclench before she ground her teeth to dust. The girl, Nynaeve, had never filed a report to the White Tower, yet she could hardly acknowledge that fact here and now.

"That girl is _not_ Nynaeve al'Meara!"

Adelorna turned her gaze in time to see Ferane pointing accusingly at Elnore. Had she not listened when the girl's name was spoken? Sometimes the White sister's fierce temper got the better of her and clouded her judgment. It was typical of Domani women, but it was not something they needed while attempting to negotiate with a _ta'veren_.

"Of course she isn't," the boy responded with a very slight smile. "However, at this very moment, Nynaeve is on a critical assignment with my…advisor. I am certain this will all be outlined in Nynaeve's next missive to the Tower." Both he and Elnore looked as though they were fighting smiles, likely because they were well aware of the corner they had backed Adelorna and the others into; if Adelorna admitted they had received no information from Nynaeve, she would look a fool. "I believe that brings us to our final bargaining point. The White Tower possesses an artifact which I require. Possession of the Horn of Valere will be transferred from the White Tower to the Black Tower. I appreciate that this is a great deal to ask, yet the coming war will require sacrifices from all to save the very world. Do we have a deal?"

"It is preposterous!" Serancha snapped. "You must be mad! You cannot possibly..."

Adelorna calmly raised one hand to halt the Gray's objections. Snapping at this boy would accomplish nothing, even when he was making such ludicrous demands. The only way to handle him was with a cool head and a firm hand. There was only one problem. She had no idea where the Horn had been stored in the White Tower, much less if it was even there. That, however, did not stop her from using it as a bargaining chip. "The Horn of Valere. A very powerful item, indeed. And now it can only be used by the one who has invoked its power." A small smile played on her lips but never met her eyes. "As long as he draws breath, that is." Her veiled threat had the desired effect—both al'Thor and the girl looked ready to do murder—but she gave no one else a chance to speak before she continued, "If we are to give such a powerful item to you, then we must ask for an equally powerful item." She paused only a moment before giving her own demand. "In return for the horn, we want _Callandor_."

A collective gasp filled the air. When al'Thor spoke, his voice was as sharp as a blade. "Were anything to happen to the hornblower's breath, I would take that as an attack on my person and respond accordingly." He paused a long moment, inspecting the crystal blade he still held. "A nearly perfect weapon but for its single flaw. I appreciate your desire to protect me, yet this is the Dragon's blade." As he met Adelorna's gaze with a glint in his eyes, he offered a shocking revelation, "There is a fix for it. One of your very sisters hinted to me of its existence. I would offer you, Adelorna Sedai, guardianship of it yet I can offer more in its stead. Within the Black Tower, I understand there are Asha'man who have shown exceptional promise in the study of _ter'angreal_. Yet solving the puzzle of _Callandor_ may require collaboration between the two Towers. The greatest accomplishments of ages past were performed when men and women worked together."

Adelorna had no doubt the boy was trying to snare them, yet she found herself moistening her lips with her tongue at the prospect he was offering. The only thing that would quell her rising interest was more information. How would this offer of his be possible after his demands that any sister who resided at the Black Tower must swear fealty to him? Would he only allow those sisters to assist in this experiment? Under the pretense of dampening her parched throat, she hefted a goblet of wine from the table. It was at that moment that al'Thor chose to continue his line of thought.

"Of course," he said, drawing in a deep breath, "it may cause friction if these visiting sisters took up residence at the Black Tower. Their status as guests would need to be clear. But then they would need a way to travel between the two Towers. For that reason, Adelorna Sedai, I could also offer you the secret of forming gateways."

The wine caught in Adelorna's throat, nearly causing her to choke. She was well aware that he knew how to Travel, something that had not been done since before the Breaking, but how in the name of the Light did he plan to teach _them_?

As if reading her mind, Serancha snapped, "How can you teach a woman to Travel? It is simply not possible! Perhaps the rest of what you promise is as false as that claim!"

The boy turned his attention to the Gray sister and replied evenly, "I cannot teach a woman to form a gateway anymore that I could teach a river to sing." He paused a moment before continuing, "I cannot; however, Elnore sur al'Amon can."

Elnore _sur_ _al'Amon_? Adelorna nearly dropped her goblet when the boy spoke the girl's full name. Even in that moment of complete shock—the name translated to 'daughter of the dragon' in the Old Tongue!—Adelorna couldn't miss the girl's giggle. Even al'Thor looked ready to break into a smile, though he was clearly fighting it. Daughter of the Dragon, indeed. Who _was_ this child? Perhaps there was a way to attain the answer to that question…

"Do you know how to make a Gateway, Elnore?" Adelorna asked, addressing the girl directly for the first time since she and Logain had arrived.

Elnore nodded. "And I will happily show you...once you have agreed to Ran"—she stopped abruptly to correct herself—"the Lord Dragon's terms."

Adelorna nearly smiled. This would prove too easy; by the time she discovered where the Horn of Valere had been hidden, she would have this boy, as well as the Asha'man and this girl, well in hand.

"We have no way of knowing if you even know such a weave," Ferane said with a snort, her tone as arrogant as any Red's could have been. Adelorna made no attempt to calm the White sister, however. Instead, she wanted to see how the girl would react.

"Well, I've already shown you one weave you didn't know and insisted was not even possible," Elnore pointed out with a condescending smile of her own, "but if you need proof..." She trailed off, the intense glow of _saidar_ enveloping her. In an instant she weaved a thin curtain of Spirit that snapped together in a vertical line. That vertical line became a slash of silvery blue light, which instantly turned into a small hole in the air. The girl stuck her arm though and…

Ferane screamed as a hand slid over her shoulder and grasped the jug of wine that sat in front of her on the table. Rand and Logain laughed—out loud—when Elnore pulled the jug of wine back through the hole in the air. The gateway was gone as quickly as it had come, however, and the girl had woven so quickly that no one could have possibly kept up with her. Ignoring Ferane's angry whispers, Adelorna asked the girl, "I assume you will weave slowly enough for us to learn it once a deal has been struck?"

Elnore nodded. "Of course."

With a smile, Adelorna regarded the child who had demonstrated knowledge and training women in the White Tower had dismissed as impossible or lost. She had heard that the rebels had learned to Travel, but had not yet been able to find anyone who could show her the weave. It was how _this_ girl had obtained that training that Adelorna wished to know. More importantly, she wished to have more information on the boy, and this girl would give her the answers she sought. One way or another. "I have one more condition, then, but this one is not for the Lord Dragon to decide." Her pleasant demeanor did not change, even when faced with Elnore's suspicious glare. "I would like a chance to speak to you...Elnore sur al'Amon. Alone." Her tone made it clear she did not believe it was Elnore's true name. That was yet another bit of information Adelorna wanted—why were they lying about this child's name? "Your display of skill today has been impressive and I feel there is much we have to discuss."

The girl frowned, letting out a long breath. The idea of being close to Aes Sedai was something that obviously did not set well with her, but Adelorna knew the girl would agree. She clearly wanted al'Thor to get everything he wanted and if this was the only way to do it… "I will meet with you, on Black Tower grounds. Now do you agree to his terms?"

Adelorna's gaze drifted to Rand, who was watching her with a steady gaze. He did not seem the least bit surprised that Elnore had agreed to her request. This was not the best deal she could have hoped for, but Adelorna would work with it. They all would. Sooner or later, though, they would set things right. Drawing in a silent breath, she gave her answer: "We have a deal, Lord Dragon."


	11. Chapter 10 In the Darkness of Night

_**Chapter 10**_

_**In the Darkness of Night**_

* * *

"West."

Rand eyed the Aes Sedai who spoke, his gaze dropping to the red shawl she was now adjusting around her shoulders. Lemai Sedai was a model of Aes Sedai arrogance, and the embodiment of the Red Ajah's contempt for men. That she had finally spoken, after numerous prompts and questions regarding the whereabouts of the man who had bonded her, was as much a relief as it was infuriating. They needed to get to Taim quickly but, despite orders from Adelorna to cooperate, the two Aes Sedai were being difficult. He glanced at the Green sister—Chloe—who had yet to utter a word and looked as though the Dark One himself was stalking her. Being in the presence of the Dragon Reborn clearly disturbed her. If only he could use her discomfort to his advantage.

"How far west?" Elnore's exasperated tone tore Rand from his thoughts. One look at her nearly made him forget his frustration. Her arms crossed beneath her breasts, Elnore met the Aes Sedai's haughty gaze with a look of cold determination. It was obvious that neither Lemai nor Chloe intimidated her. If anything, Rand had the distinct feeling the two Aes Sedai should watch their mouths lest they end up on the wrong side of Elnore's temper. In that way, she reminded him a great deal of Nynaeve.

After a lengthy silence, Elnore prompted, "I asked you a question, woman. You can either answer it voluntarily or I can beat it out of you. The choice is yours." Rand gave a soft snort of laughter, though he did not smile. Light! There were not many people who would threaten Aes Sedai in such a way. Many? More like none.

Lemai's face turned such a deep red that it almost looked purple. "You dare to threaten an Aes Sedai!"

When Elnore opened her mouth, Rand spoke quickly, "Adelorna Sedai gave you orders to assist me and you gave your word that you would. As far as I know, the only Aes Sedai able to betray their words are Black Ajah…" He eyed the woman coldly, letting the accusation hang in the air.

"I betray nothing!" Lemai sputtered, glancing at Chloe before tugging on the thick red shawl again, this time in an obvious attempt to calm herself. Was it possible the accusation could be true? "I am not certain how far west we need to travel. This is a big mistake. You have no idea how—" A glow sprang up around Elnore and Lemai's complaints faded into a muffled cry as Elnore used flows of Air to gag her. Lemai struggled to close her jaw, outrage in her eyes.

Clearing his throat, Rand rubbed at his mouth with one hand to hide his amusement. Lews Therin cackled in the back of his mind. _We should keep this one close! If anyone can keep Cadsuane from us, it is this girl…_ There was truth in the madman's words, though according to Min's vision he needed to learn whatever the old woman had to teach him.

Elnore's blue gaze went to Chloe. "Is the one who bonded you also to the west?" This woman had enough sense not to offer her opinion and merely nodded. "Then west it is." In the time it took to blink, a large gateway snapped into existence a few paces away, though Rand was not certain where it led. When he gave Elnore a questioning look, she said, "Whitebridge." To the two Aes Sedai, she ordered, "You two go through first." Whatever warmth was in her voice when she spoke to him disappeared completely when she addressed the Aes Sedai. Without a word, she started through the gateway behind the two women but stopped at the last moment, glancing over her shoulder at him and grinning mischievously. "If I remember correctly, your Maiden bodyguards don't allow you to go through first, so I get to go next."

Rand glared at the girl, raising one eyebrow in admonishment, and was surprised when that simple look sent her leaping through the gateway with a sheepish grin. It was not the first time she had reacted in such a way, as though she had witnessed his displeasure in the past. Or future? Trying to make sense of it was enough to make his head throb. In truth, he found his emotions in flux where this young woman was involved. He did not know whether to be amused, surprised, or annoyed, and could best describe the result as a volatile conflagration of the three.

As he followed the three women through the Gateway and into the shadow of Whitebridge, he heard Lemai snap nasally, "No! No! You fool girl, they are much farther west than this!"

Elnore turned to the woman, her face a fierce mask, and pushed the Aes Sedai just as another gateway opened behind the falling sister. All Rand heard was a splash as the woman disappeared through the gateway. Light! Had she dropped the woman in the Aryth Ocean? Elnore channeled Air to pull the soaking wet Red back through the gateway. Elnore snarled, "Was that too far west?" The sodden woman nodded weakly. Elnore smiled, yet the threat never left her eyes. "Rand…the Lord Dragon…and I are about to enter a battlefield. Like it or not, you are with us! I suggest you stop behaving like a horse's backside and cooperate, else the best you can hope for is an unmarked grave between the Dragon Reborn and a bloody wilder!"

For the first time since leaving Emond's Field, Rand did not contain his urge and laughed with abandon. The Aes Sedai stared as if he was taken with madness, while Elnore grinned.

In moments, he reassumed his stony gaze and focused on the Red sister. "Elnore, teach Lemai Sedai to form a gateway, just as you did for the Ajah heads." Adelorna had been insistent that only she and those she had brought with her to the meeting be taught the weave for Traveling, but locating Taim would be quicker if Lemai and Chloe could weave gateways themselves. "Perhaps, in her infinite wisdom, she can open one closer to our objective, as though her life depended on it."

Though Elnore sighed loudly, she proceeded to do as he said without complaint or objection. He did not envy the girl in her task. Through his experiences with Aes Sedai, he had learned that they were not very eager to be taught _anything_ and preferred, instead, to present themselves as authorities on all matters. Especially channeling.

He watched the women quietly, smiling slightly when he noted Elnore's miserable expression. Regardless of her obvious disdain for Aes Sedai, she approached the task with as much patience as could be expected. Both Lemai and Chloe listened intently, demanding that Elnore repeat her weave slowly. It was fortunate that he had allowed her to join him in his hunt for Taim, though he had not intended to do so. Once she had taught Adelorna and the others how to Travel, he had told her she should return to the Black Tower with Logain while he took Lemai and Chloe to find Taim. It was only after she had all but thrown a tantrum about the matter, then resorted to begging Rand to take her with him, that he had relented.

Several gateways winked in and out of existence, one right after the other. It was clearly Elnore's work, and it caused not only her students' brows to rise but it caused Rand's to do the same. The gateways were nearly as large as the ones Rand himself made. _The girl is as strong in the One Power as Mierin! _Lews Therin's declaration was somewhat of a shock—from Lews Therin's memories, Rand knew no woman had been close to Lanfear in strength in the One Power—though Rand somehow knew it to be true.

Whatever thoughts he had on the matter disappeared, however, when Elnore let loose with a loud curse and stomped toward him with her brow set in a scowl. The two Aes Sedai had apparently dismissed her once they were convinced they knew the weave. That was hardly a surprise.

"I could've bloody well found them by now," Elnore grumbled as she came to stand by Rand's side.

Rand ignored the girl's complaints and watched the two Aes Sedai as they began arguing. He could only hear bits and pieces of it, enough to know that they were arguing about how far west Taim and the others had gone. After several moments, the glow of _saidar_ sprung up around Lemai and she opened a gateway to a spot several paces away. Rand nodded slightly in approval—it seemed Elnore had taught the Aes Sedai that, by Traveling a short distance from their current location, they could learn the area well enough to Travel elsewhere. Excellent. That would mean they would be able to move quickly.

He continued watching them, touching the bracelet Elnore had given him. It was cold against his skin, colder than the chill he normally felt when women nearby were holding _saidar_. Though he had had little opportunity to question the girl about it, he had learned a few interesting facts about it. An Asha'man, with the help of a female channeler, had created the first of its kind, though it had lacked some of the capabilities later versions possessed. He glanced down at the bracelet. Elnore had said that it would turn cold even if women had hidden their ability to channel, something he had not even known was possible; that alone made the trinket worth all the gold in Tar Valon, but being able to see the weaves that were being channeled around him was nothing short of amazing.

"I wish you had had that sooner," Elnore said softly, though there was an edge to her voice that made him tense. "If you had, maybe they wouldn't have gotten a chance to hurt you." He glanced over at her and found she had returned her gaze to the Aes Sedai. The way she was standing there, glaring at the two women with her arms folded and her jaw clenched, would have made Rand laugh had he not seen the look in her eyes. As much as she resembled Nynaeve in appearance, she had somehow managed to imitate Lan's threatening intensity.

"Why don't you like Aes Sedai?" he asked softly, keeping his gaze trained on her.

She looked up, the scowl fading from her delicate features. "You truly need to ask me that?" Those blue eyes filled with a strange mixture of sympathy for him and hatred for the women in question. "What they've done to you is enough reason to hate them. Enough to make me want to see every one of them burn."

The passion behind her words took him aback. Though he could tell her words were true, he knew there was more to her hatred of them than what they had done to him, and that it was tied to the reason she had gone to live with him and Min when she was fourteen. "They did something to you, too. Or you'd not have left the Tower to live with me and Min. You said I _rescued_ you from that place." There was no question in his tone, merely a statement of fact. It was enough to make her visibly shudder. "What did they do to you, Elnore?"

"I…they…" In an instant her blue eyes filled with pain, and though she dropped her gaze to hide it, she did not do so quickly enough.

Reaching out, he tilted her chin up to force her to meet his eyes once again. It was the most tenderness he had shown anyone other than Min in a very long time, and it surprised him how good it felt. "You don't have to tell me right now"—it was neither the time nor the place for an emotional discussion—"but we _will_ discuss this soon."

Elnore nodded, swallowing hard. At that moment, she looked more child than woman. It made him wonder just how old she was. When he inquired as to her age, she answered, "My twenty-second name day is in a few months."

Light! The girl was several months _older_ than him! Her face did not reflect her age, however. If anything, she appeared to be at least five years younger than her true age. That meant she had begun slowing at a young age, likely younger than most Aes Sedai. How long had she been channeling? Vaguely, he recalled her mentioning it, but she had nattered on so incessantly, jumping from one topic to another with little or now warning, he had trouble remembering even half of what she had said.

"I believe I am ready now." Lemai's announcement drew Rand's attention. His questions would have to wait until later. "And I can open the gateway to a spot very near his location, but this is madness. We cannot possibly—"

Elnore interrupted, "When they bonded you two, did they use the extra bit for Compulsion?" Both women's eyes widened in surprise, but after a moment they nodded. "And what orders did they give?"

"Mishraile's orders were twofold," Lemai answered. "Do not attack him and do not attack Taim. The orders differed from the orders our original Warders…" The woman stumbled over the word, frowning. "The orders the men who bonded us had given."

"Nothing about attacking the other Asha'man?" When the two women shook their heads, Elnore nodded.

Rand eyed Elnore sideways, wondering if there was a point to her questions. "The oaths they swore when they became Aes Sedai prevent them from being of much use in this battle," he told her quietly.

"You mean the same way their oath against lying forces them to always tell the truth?" She asked the question scornfully, but her point was viable. An Aes Sedai could not take a life, or attack others directly, unless her own life was in danger. _Or unless she is beating a prisoner mercilessly, or locking him in a box… _Rand forced the thought from his mind. Now was not the time to dwell on what they had done to him. Or to wonder where Galina and Katerine were now. He still had nightmares of them returning. Of them capturing him again. He shivered, but Elnore's voice brought him back to the matter at hand. "Glare all you like," she told the two women, who were apparently miffed at her lack of respect, "but I'm well aware of how easily your so-called oaths can be evaded. It will not take long for you to feel the danger of our task. If you want to survive, I suggest you attune yourselves to that danger. And act on it." She paused. "Leave Taim and the two who bonded you to us."

Lemai actually smiled, though her gaze was calculating. "With a bit of training, and a few years of being taught to control that temper, you would make an excellent Red. Even if you _are_ a wilder."

The look Elnore gave Lemai drained the color from the Aes Sedai's face. "Open the gateway as near to him as you can get," she ordered. Rand wondered if she realized they would likely have a long walk awaiting them on the other side of the gateway. If Lemai and Chloe were able to get them within a mile or less of Taim's lair, he would be thankful. "You both go through first and do as I told you. Either have a shield ready or have that bloody bonding weave of yours ready. Use it on whomever you see first. Once you manage to convince yourselves that you're in enough danger, attack to kill."

Turning, she faced Rand and began to channel Spirit and Earth. Some sort of shield, he thought. _Saidar_ was so different from _saidin_. Despite his curiosity about the weave, he could not help but feel a flash of irritation. She was as bad as Nynaeve with that! Did no one teach women how to ask first? Later, he would see to it that she learned that lesson! "Elnore! What—"

"A protective shield," she answered, frowning. "It's better than any armor could ever be, but it's not perfect. Be careful." Ironically, Rand wanted to tell her the same thing—she was far less cautious than she should be, from what he had seen—but before he could voice his thoughts, she spun to face Lemai and drew her sword from its scabbard. Its blade was black, a dull color that did not reflect light, and near the hilt was a mark of some sort. He had yet to get a good look at it, unfortunately. That was yet another thing Rand intended to question her about; it was clear that the sword had been created or altered with the One Power, but there was something different about it. Perhaps a closer examination of it would give him the answers he sought. "Let's go."

The Red paused a moment, appraising the young woman before speaking. "I am not defenseless despite the Oaths. I spent years in the bowels of the Rahad and learned to protect myself long before sisters came to claim me. If I had a dagger…"

The woman did not have time to complete her sentence as Elnore pulled a long blade from the small of her back and lobbed it at Lemai. Rand was still puzzling out where Elnore had kept the blade hidden while the Red did not miss a beat, moving gracefully to snatch the weapon from the air.

Rand watched as Elnore's expression shifted from surprise at the catch to an appraising smile as the other women flipped the blade and caught the hilt. Testing the balance, Lemai spoke to Elnore, "Thank you. I assure you, when this blade is returned it will have tasted blood."

"Good," Elnore responded quietly, something in her tone causing Rand to gape at her. To hear such a sentiment coming from a girl that so resembled Nynaeve was disconcerting. In some ways, she seemed a strange combination of her parents—Nynaeve's temper and fierce protectiveness of those she loved combined with Lan's deadliness—but there was something else in those blue eyes as well. Something unsettling that he could not quite place, and was not certain he wished to.

"Let's go," he told them. "We likely have a long walk ahead of us, and I wish to see this done." The Aes Sedai sniffed before they went through the gateway, but Elnore just nodded at him and obeyed. Yet another quality this girl possessed that differed from her mother. Frowning, he followed the three women through the gateway, forcing his thoughts from Nynaeve lest they lead him to worrying about Min. Cadsuane had better bring the two women back quickly. And safely. He sighed inwardly. Whatever Cadsuane's reasons for leaving, and wherever she had gone, Rand had to focus on Taim and trust that Nynaeve would keep Min from harm.

* * *

Nisura looked up from the book she was reading when the light in the room began to flicker. The blazing fire one of the other attendants had built only an hour earlier was already dying, its shrinking flames crackling weakly. There were many disturbing occurrences of late, some of which none cared to discuss, but the inability to keep a fire burning for more than an hour or two at a time was more annoying than troubling. For Nisura, at least.

"I'll take care of it, my lady" she said to Amalisa when the woman started to get to her feet. Setting her book aside, Nisura crossed the room to add more wood to the fire. As she worked with the fire, she heard a worried sigh behind her. She had no need to ask who it was; Riven, one of Amalisa's new attendants from a lesser noble house in Kandor, was nothing if not predictable.

"Stop fretting, Riven," Amalisa said softly. "We have plenty of wood for the fire."

"It isn't just the fire, my lady. Certainly you see it, too. Fires burn out far before they should, the sky is unnaturally gray…men…vomiting beetles. The Dark One's touch, it grows stronger and—"

Amalisa clapped her hands to stop the young girl's flow of words. "Riven, that is enough. I will hear no more of this."

Clearing her throat, Nisura turned away from the fire. Though Riven seemed determined to point out the obvious in an effort to panic everyone around her, the girl was not wrong. The rapidly fading fires could be ignored and, perhaps, it was easy to pretend that Riven's story of the stable boy having beetles crawling from his mouth was merely a young girl's imagination, but the weather…it was not so easily explained. She looked toward the darkness beyond the arrowslits in the outside wall. The sky had been gray for days, and seemed to be growing darker. Anyone with eyes could see the thick clouds that refused to retreat, and without the slightest breeze to scatter them, it was unlikely the sky would clear any time soon. The air was thick and stagnant, making it uncomfortable to even breathe. The Dark One's touch was growing stronger; they all knew that, whether or not Riven spoke of it.

It was not a discussion on the Dark One's touch that Amalisa wished to avoid, however, but rather the topic such a discussion would lead to…the fact that the keep was practically defenseless. All but a handful of Shienaran soldiers had accompanied King Easar on his mysterious trek southward, and though few voiced their fears aloud there was a sense of foreboding in Fal Dara. If there were a raid from the Blight now…

Nisura sighed softly, her brow furrowing into a frown so deep it caused her eyes to ache. In the best of times, the towers were barely manned. These were hardly the best of times. Some took comfort in how quiet the Blight had been of late, but that only made Nisura worry more. The Blight never remained inactive for long. The longer the silence stretched, the more likely an attack became. Especially now.

The silence in the room stretched as the three women made weak attempts to return to their previous activities. Riven stood quietly by the window as Amalisa stared blankly at her book, not bothering to turn the page even after many minutes had passed. Nisura could not even manage that much, her gaze settling on the fire rather than on the open book on her lap. None of them had a right to question Easar about his decisions, but with Tarmon Gai'don drawing near… She could not bring herself to finish the thought. The Light send Fal Dara would be standing when the king returned.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door was suddenly flung open and a young maid rushed inside. The girl barely curtsied to Amalisa before speaking. "My Lady, please, you must come. You are needed quickly."

In other countries, such an intrusion would be met, at best, with a tongue lashing. At worst, it would likely end with the maid being punished for her impropriety. But not in the Borderlands. Lady Amalisa got to her feet and gestured for Nisura and Riven to join her as she fell into step behind the maid. "Shalia, what is this about?"

"Rengar came in with an Aes Sedai, my lady," the maid said breathlessly as she led them down the hallway. "He found her near the Malkier Gate when he was leaving his watch. The Aes Sedai's horse was…dragging her. She's…" The girl glanced back at Amalisa. "I had him take her to one of the guest rooms in the women's apartments. My lady, she is not well. The horse didn't have a scratch on him, but she… Rengar thinks she must've fallen, though it makes no sense!"

Amalisa did not ask how Rengar had known the woman he found was an Aes Sedai, nor did she ask how the man had deduced that the woman had been injured in a fall. Instead, she just nodded, caught a guard in the hall and sent him to fetch Kathala. "Tell her to bring her herbs. Quickly!"

It did not take long to reach the room where the Aes Sedai lay. Surprisingly, Rengar was still in the room. Most soldiers would have left, rather than wait for Amalisa's arrival. Nisura nearly berated him for remaining in the room, but when her gaze fell upon the Aes Sedai she felt her breath catch.

The woman did, indeed, wear the Great Serpent ring, but she also wore a great deal of other jewelry. On one wrist, the woman wore a bracelet that was connected to four rings on her fingers. There was other jewelry as well—a jeweled belt, a ring, and more—but it was the ring the woman wore on a chain around her neck, the ring Amalisa had begun to closely examine, that drew Nisura's attention. The gold signet ring was worn with age, but the golden crane, which flew above a lance and crown, stood out as clearly as the sun. It was the ring of Malkieri kings.

Amalisa spoke, but Nisura did not hear her words. Instead, she looked upon the Aes Sedai. The woman's left arm was broken, the bone protruding from her forearm. Her dress was little more than a tattered rag. There was no doubt the woman had injuries they could not see. Yet somehow she had survived whatever nightmare she had encountered. Finally, Nisura looked up to the woman's face. It was battered and bruised, but it was still recognizable. The last she had seen this woman had been when Moiraine Sedai had been at the keep. The last Nisura had seen this woman, she had been on her way to Tar Valon for training. What had happened since then? Why was she alone now?

"Rengar," Amalisa ordered firmly, "send some men to Fal Moran. To Shol Arbela. Tell them to find an Aes Sedai and let her know that one of her sisters is in dire need. I fear herbs will not be enough to help this woman." Frowning, Amalisa smoothed the Aes Sedai's hair. She looked near tears.

"You know her, m'lady?" Rengar asked, his words slicing through the silence.

Nisura looked at Amalisa as they both nodded. Amalisa let out a shaky breath before answering, "Her name is…Nynaeve al'Meara."

* * *

Adelorna fought a yawn, though the effort was quite futile. It was late, and chances were she would get no sleep tonight. That she was not alone in that fate did not ease her exhaustion. Far from it. As long as the day had felt, tomorrow would prove to be just as long. Unfortunately. Perhaps she could find time to sleep the next day, if luck was with her.

A slight knock on her door was all the warning she received before Jesse stepped inside. "How did your meeting with Tsutama go?" she asked without pause, adjusting the brown shawl on her shoulders as she crossed the sitting room and sank into the plush chair across from Adelorna.

"Surprisingly well." Part of the reason their plan to oust Elaida had taken so long to implement was due to Galina's absence. But, once Tsutama Rath had taken the woman's place as Highest of the Red Ajah, things had changed. The others had not wanted to include her in their plans—Tsutama was too new to her position to understand the complexities Adelorna and the other Ajah heads had been forced to maneuver, much less why they had made the choices they had—but Adelorna had insisted. Had they not agreed upon raising her as Amyrlin, she doubted she would have wanted to include Tsutama either, but it was the right choice. Politically, she could not afford to alienate the Red Ajah. That did not mean, however, that bringing Tsutama into the fold had been easy.

Tsutama had always been a hard woman, and her exile had done nothing to change that. If anything, the Red seemed fiercer than before. Word had it that Toveine had returned much the same as Tsutama. Adelorna oft wondered whether it was wise to send Aes Sedai to Mistress Doweel's farm; in the end, it seemed the woman's harsh discipline only made the exiled Aes Sedai harder than they were before, and that was hardly the point of the exile.

"Did she agree to…" Trailing off, Jesse frowned. "To our plan?"

Adelorna nodded, if a bit hesitantly. "Some concessions had to be made. In addition to the two we expected."

The long sigh that escaped Jesse's lips was almost too soft to hear. "I feared that woman would cause problems. The Reds—"

"It is likely not as bad as you fear," Adelorna interrupted. "I told her of the agreement we made with the boy and, rather than being perturbed by it, she feels it presents new opportunities. The boy will not like what she has in mind, nor will a number of others, but it does not go against our agreement." Truthfully, she had been surprised by Tsutama's ideas and plans for the Red Ajah. Surprised and a bit apprehensive. The deal was done, though. There was naught she could do about it now.

Surprisingly, Jesse did not ask what other concessions had to be made. She would learn soon enough. "The other Ajah heads should be arriving soon," she said quietly, lightly stroking her brown shawl. "Along with the Sitters. It appears they had been tied up…with a trial."

Adelorna cocked an eyebrow at the woman. Tsutama had not mentioned a trial, nor had she given indication that anything was amiss at the Tower. "A trial for whom?"

"They captured the al'Vere girl as she was doing something to the Northharbor chain." Jesse's lips pursed in contemplation and she glanced at Adelorna's Warders before she continued, "The chain is now solid. It cannot be moved. I believe the child may have turned it to _cuendillar_. Another woman claiming to be Leane Sharif was captured in the process of doing the same to the Southharbor chain, yet she did not quite succeed."

_Cuendillar_? That the child had puzzled out how to create _cuendillar_ was both interesting and vexing. While selling _cuendillar_ could prove a wonderful way to make more money for the Tower, trying to sort the mess caused by the harbor chains being in one immobile piece would be problematic. Unfortunately, dealing with the chains would have to wait until much more important problems were solved. "So they tried the child. What was the result?"

Jesse snorted, a thing that seemed quite out of character for her. "She was found guilty, of course. It was difficult for them to reach any other conclusion with her insisting, right in front of the Hall, that she was the only true Amyrlin. She even cited the loophole in Tower law that allowed her—a mere Accepted!—to be raised." She shook her head in disgust. "They stilled her on the spot, as soon as the judgment had been made. Then, while we were meeting with the boy, Elaida had her birched before the entire Tower."

"Has she been executed?" Though her voice remained even, Adelorna nearly cringed at the thought. No doubt al'Thor would want blood if the al'Vere girl had been put to death. Worse, it would complicate their agreement.

"No. According to Shevan, Elaida decided against executing the girl. Instead, the child is…was…to be made a handmaiden for the Amyrlin."

Adelorna snorted. "Light, that woman's arrogance never ceases to amaze me! First she has a palace built for herself and now she wants an Accepted stilled for the sole purpose of making her a handmaiden?" She sighed, shaking her head. "The deal we made with the boy is worth deposing that fool. Another day with her as Amyrlin is another step closer to the total destruction of the Tower itself."

"I cannot disagree with that last sentiment," Jesse said dryly, "but the deal we made…it will not sit well with many here. You know as well as I that most sisters feel the boy should be under our control. Though Elaida approached it foolishly, they—"

"Elaida ruined any chance we had of ever getting that boy directly under our thumb without completely crushing him," Adelorna interrupted. "You heard him…saw how he reacted…any Aes Sedai is suspect unless she swears fealty to him. Any save one, and his disdain for _her_ was clear." Cadsuane Melaidhrin. How that woman had insinuated herself into al'Thor's life was a mystery, but Adelorna had no doubt that Cadsuane had control of the boy to some extent, at least. Not only would Cadsuane refuse to swear fealty to _anyone_, she would never allow the Dragon Reborn to so much as blink without her permission. The only problem was that Cadsuane was more likely than not to decide she herself should lead the boy to Tarmon Gai'don without involving anyone at the Tower. Adelorna could not allow that, no matter Cadsuane's legendary status. "At least this agreement brings us closer to him. If we are close to him, we can gain his trust so we can guide him."

This time it was Jesse who laughed. "Trust? We gave him everything he wanted and walked away with little more than a quicker way to cover distance and an invitation to be guests at the Black Tower, where we would be severely outnumbered. Those Asha'man hate all Aes Sedai, no doubt, especially after Elaida's botched attack on them. No, I believe it will be nearly impossible for any woman who can channel to gain the Asha'man's trust, much less al'Thor's."

"He seems to trust the girl with him. Elnore." When Adelorna saw the grimace on Jesse's face, she raised an eyebrow. "Do not tell me you feel as Ferane does, or that you even entertain any of the ridiculous conclusions the others have come to."

The Brown sister took a deep breath. "No, I don't believe Ferane's explanation that the girl is Lanfear in disguise or that she has al'Thor under some type of Compulsion. If anything, she seemed to be following him rather than leading, but…you have to admit something is not quite right about her, and I don't mean her resemblance to Nynaeve al'Meara. For one thing, she is even stronger in the One Power than the three girls from the Two Rivers. And the things she seems to know…" With a deep frown, she trailed off. After a moment, she shook her head fiercely, causing her shoulder length brown hair to swing back and forth. "New discoveries are all well and good, but she removed a Warder bond! Only the sister who bonded a man should be able to do that!"

Adelorna let out a long breath. "I know. It certainly complicates matters, but you know as well as I that very few Warders would ask for such a thing. The bond itself ensures that the man bonded—"

"But if a man is freed from it," Jesse interrupted, "he is free from the effects as well." She paused. "Both good and bad."

Unfortunately, which parts of the bond were good and which parts were bad depended greatly on whether you were the one holding the bond. Aes Sedai rarely discussed the Warder bond, and not all sisters truly understood the effects of the bond, but none could deny that the men who were bonded, by far, got the worse end of things. The men, for their part, tended to focus on their increased stamina, never considering the price they paid for what, really, was a minor gift. Those trained at the Tower knew, for the most part, what they were getting into, but those bonded away from the Tower had little clue as to how significantly their lives would be altered. Still, once the bond was in place, it was exceedingly rare for a man to request his freedom. Would that reverence for the bond remain if he was out from under its influence, though? Adelorna wished she could believe that her Warders would ask to be bonded again, if freed, but what she knew of the bond—and common sense—told her otherwise.

Finally, after a long silence, she said, "We will need to experiment with the bond, Jesse. Quietly. Perhaps we can find a way to make a bond that cannot be removed." It was a terrible thing to consider—if a man was bonded against his will, there would be no path to freedom—but given the circumstances, and the growing numbers of male channelers, it would likely become necessary.

"That would solve a great many problems, wouldn't it?" Jesse eyed her sideways before looking away. "As well add Compulsion to the bond so it requires no effort on a sister's part to force his obedience." When Adelorna opened her mouth to angrily object, Jesse raised one hand. "I normally have more sense than to discuss Warders with a Green. We will have to address this at some point, but for now it will have to wait. We have more pressing matters. Our deal with the boy is a disaster, one that may ruin us before we ever begin."

Though Adelorna's jaw was still so tight she feared her teeth may crack from the pressure, she managed to respond, "Times are changing, Jesse, and we must change with them or be left behind. I thought that much was clear when we all first agreed to offer an alliance to Taim."

"Yes, it seemed necessary to form that alliance, but how much must we give him? And what good will it do us if he, as well as those Asha'man, remain unfettered?"

Folding her hands in her lap, Adelorna eyed the other woman. "Elaida's failures with al'Thor and the Black Tower should have taught us a lesson, but we've spent so long pushing the world the way we wished it to go, without any resistance, that we can't conceive of any other way to achieve our goals." She paused, but not for long enough for Jesse to speak. "If you want to move a mountain of stones, pushing on it is futile. Trying to do so will just make you look a fool and drain your energy." Her lips curled up slightly. "No, if you wish to move that mountain, you must do so a stone at a time. Then you can put each stone where you wish it to be. Use each in the manner you choose. And when the mountain is small enough…"

Jesse said nothing at first and, instead, crossed the room to pour herself a cup of tea. "So our goals have not changed?"

"On the contrary. Our goals are the same as ever, it's merely our methods that have changed. The White Tower must be whole again, and we Aes Sedai must change our ways if we are to continue to guide the world. When shaken by strong winds, a tree either bends or it breaks. I would rather us bend." Adelorna's attention went to the door when it eased open and the Sitters—minus the Reds—began filing in with the Ajah heads following closely behind. The last one to enter was Alarra. Once the door was closed, Adelorna cleared her throat. "I see no need to waste time. You all have been informed why we are meeting."

Her gaze drifted to the Green who set herself apart from the others and stood alone by the door. "Alarra, tell them what you know. Spare no detail."

* * *

Rand stood silently, surveying the destruction that surrounded him. There was little left of Taim's lair save some rubble and a few men who were drawing their last breaths. Taim had been more intelligent than Rand had believed—instead of his entire army, only twenty or so of Taim's men had been assembled. Taim himself had been nowhere in sight.

"Chloe, is this the one who bonded you?"

When Elnore spoke, Rand turned his gaze to the girl to find her hovering over a man who was fighting for breath. When Chloe nodded, Elnore turned toward the Aes Sedai and channeled, removing the bond, then turned back and drove her sword through the nearly dead man's chest. Though Rand had fought by Elnore's side earlier, he had been so absorbed in battle that he failed to recognize her abilities. Really, with him wielding _Callandor_, there had been little need for her to participate in the battle. Once they had made it to Taim's men, however, he had been the one doing more watching than acting.

On the fairly short walk from the gateway to the building that held Taim's men, Elnore had informed him that she and the two Aes Sedai could handle the impending battle. She had been worried about him, concerned that he had channeled too much at the Black Tower. At first, he had intended to take the lead in the battle despite Elnore's protests that he was nearing the point of exhaustion. That she was correct did not matter; all that mattered was getting Taim and his men. Removing them before they could do more harm. At the time, Rand had no idea how many men awaited them and was more than a little doubtful that two Aes Sedai and a young girl, no matter how competent she believed herself to be, could best Taim and his group of followers. It was for that reason that he reached for _saidin_, through the fat man _angreal_ rather than _Callandor_, before he stepped through yet another gateway, this time one that led to the center of the two-story building the Aes Sedai had sworn held the men who had bonded them. It was fortunate that he had.

Elnore had channeled without hesitation, pulling down the chamber's ceiling around them. His head throbbing, Rand had channeled as well. Only moments before the building collapsed, completely crushing the first story of the building with the second, Rand had formed small domes of Air to protect himself, Elnore, and the Sisters from the falling slabs of stone.

As reckless as they were, Elnore's methods had proven effective. As the dust had begun to clear, they had found more than half of Taim's forces destroyed. Neither Rand nor the Aes Sedai had reprimanded Elnore for what she had done, despite knowing that she could have killed the two men that held Lemai and Chloe's bonds. Better to be alive, with a broken bond, than dead.

Those of Taim's men who had not been disabled too greatly, or killed, sought to form gateways, which Rand had easily blocked. Elnore had begun an unrelenting assault on the remaining enemies, engulfing the entire area in flame. Lemai and Chloe had done their part as well, rapidly channeling balls of fire to finish destroying the enemies that had been flailing about in an effort to stop the fire that had consumed them. Exhausted, and convinced that Elnore and the two Aes Sedai could handle cleaning up whatever resistance remained, Rand released the True Source. The wave of nausea left him but the only thing that kept him on his feet was sheer force of will.

"Mishraile is under here," Lemai spat.

Rand turned his gaze to the Red. Save a nasty burn on her neck, she appeared no worse for wear. Neither Chloe nor Elnore suffered as much as a scratch. Nor did Rand himself.

As Elnore moved toward the spot where Mishraile lay dying, Lemai blocked her path. "Wait!" The Aes Sedai presented a bloody blade to the young woman. She must have been quick to kill an Asha'man with the weapon during the short-lived battle. Rand could not help thinking the Maidens would be impressed. "I do not wish to forget how I was violated by this monster. Ever! I wish I could kill him myself, but I cannot because of the Compulsion. Do it for me, Elnore."

Clearing his throat, Rand spoke, "Our deal was to release you from the Bond. We never claimed it was possible to Heal a snapped Bond."

Snatching her shawl about her, the woman never moved her eyes from Elnore, "I know what was promised. I thought I knew what was possible until this child showed me otherwise. Elnore, I release you from you promise to free me my Bond, and ask you to do what I cannot. Kill Mishraile."

* * *

The welts and bruises covering Egwene's body kept her from breathing too deeply, but she had tired of lying on the cold stone floor. She almost regretted not having lost consciousness through the beatings she had suffered—she could definitely use some rest—yet she took a certain amount of pride in her ability to embrace pain. Given a bit more experience, she was certain she would be able to take the pain with a smile, just as Aviendha had once described to her. Still, there were some experiences she would gladly forego. Being birched in front of three hundred Aes Sedai was one of those experiences. Another was how she had been beaten afterward, as an incentive to share whatever information she knew.

Fighting a groan, she pushed herself from the floor and got to her feet. Sitting was not an option, not when her backside was beaten bloody. Elaida had been adamant about getting answers from her and, eventually, Egwene had given them. That those answers had not been entirely truthful was something Elaida and her lackeys would not learn until much later. Egwene supposed she should count herself lucky that the woman had not seen fit to use Compulsion on her to force the truth out of her. That, perhaps, was the only bit of luck she had had since her decision to take Bode's place to turn the harbor chains. Though some small part of her regretted that decision—Bode might have been punished for turning the chain to _cuendillar_ but she did not risk being tried and stilled for what the sisters in the Tower saw as treason—Egwene knew she had done the right thing. Bode was a child and, if Egwene had anything to say about it, the girl would not be forced to unsafely hasten her progress. If she had anything to say about it. A soft sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it; it seemed she would have little say about anything now.

She could not help feeling for the Great Serpent ring that was no longer on her finger. Not that she expected it to be there. After falling into the river, she had lost consciousness and had not woken until she was nearly to the White Tower gates. Her Great Serpent ring had been gone then, taken from her by Katerine and the others who had been there to capture her. The lack of it made her feel more naked than the lack of a shift. Nothing left her feeling barer than the lack of ability to embrace the True Source, though. Nothing could fill that void within her now. Despite herself, she tried to embrace _saidar_. There was nothing there. Just her. Just her and the overwhelming emptiness that had once been filled by her ability to channel.

_But I am still alive. And as long as I draw breath, there is hope. _It was true. As like as not, her head would be on a chopping block when morning came but for now she was alive. Oddly, she felt no fear. She had no fear when she had first awakened either. At first she had believed it to be a side effect of the forkroot Katerine had dosed her with, but that was not the reason. She had known the risk when she had begun this war against Elaida; now she had to pay for her choices. Or did she?

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she was surprised that the darkness seemed to lessen. Blindly, she carefully shuffled her bare feet on the stone beneath her until she found a wall. A corner. Gently, she leaned against the wall and had to resist the urge to whimper when her skin touched the stone. Some things were out of her hands, but she would maintain the dignity suiting an Amyrlin until she drew her final breath. Even when she was birched in front of the entire Tower, after she had been tried and convicted of treason, she had not begged for mercy. She _would_ not. The Amyrlin begged for nothing, even her own life.

It had angered Elaida, of course. After being taken to the Mistress of Novices and strapped until she was certain the skin had been flayed from her backside, Egwene had been presented to the Hall. Elaida had given her a chance, offered leniency—in the form of being put back in novice white and facing a daily strapping for more than three months—if she would publicly rescind her claim to the Amyrlin Seat.

Egwene smiled at the memory; instead of giving in to Elaida's demands, she had calmly stated that she was the _true_ Amyrlin, legally elected by the Hall. It had taken four sisters to keep Elaida from physically attacking her; the woman's inability to control herself made her look even more foolish. Egwene had taken that chance to warn the Hall of her dream, to warn them of the coming Seanchan attack. She hoped someone would heed her warning. Whether or not they would, she did not know. The Hall had erupted then, but the result had been just what Egwene expected: she was convicted of falsely claiming to be Amyrlin. From there, it had gotten most unpleasant for her. The only thing she could think of, though, was not her own fate but the fate of the rebellion.

What would happen now? She prayed silently that Romanda and Lelaine could somehow stop their bickering long enough to bring order to the rebels. To raise a new Amyrlin. They could not surrender to Elaida. But who could lead them? Lelaine would be nearly as bad as Elaida and Romanda…well, she was hardly ideal but she was a better choice than Lelaine. Neither of them had what was needed, though. Neither had the strength or wisdom to lead the rebels to victory. Or to handle Rand. Egwene sighed. The Aes Sedai needed a firm hand to guide them, to raise them to the place in the world they had somehow lost. Egwene feared there was no one who could manage that now.

The sound of a door creaking open halted her thoughts on the matter. She half expected to see Elaida enter—no doubt the woman would happily be the one to tell her of her execution—yet instead, once her eyes adjusted to the soft light of the lamp, she saw Nicola's face. The girl, now dressed a novice, was carrying a tray of food in one hand and a small lamp in the other. Why had they sent a novice to her? Was this supposed to be a final kindness? A last meal before she was to be executed?

Nicola shifted nervously on her feet. She had been there when Egwene arrived with Katerine and the others. She had, surprisingly and sincerely, apologized for running away. That had been enough proof that she had not been the one to betray the plans to turn the harbor chains to _cuendillar_. "They thought you might still be sleeping, Mother." That she was naming a woman no longer to channel as the rightful Amyrlin did not seem to bother the girl. "Are you…I mean…how are you?"

Making no effort to cover her body, Egwene walked stiffly, but proudly, toward the door of her cell. Her spine was straight, her head held high. Dignified until the end. "I am alive, child." It still felt right to speak as the Amyrlin, despite not being able to channel. And, in all truth, Egwene knew it was not her ability to channel that made her the best choice to lead the Aes Sedai. Even if she could not channel, she was the only one who could lead these women properly. She just had to survive to do it. _Channeling can be Healed. But death cannot. _"Isn't it is a bit late for you to be up and about? And even later for food to be served?" Truthfully, Egwene was not certain of the time. Even the darkness of the cell could be attributed to the lack of windows.

"It is, but I was studying in the library and lost track of time. Felaana Sedai saw me there and told me to fetch you a meal before bed. She thought you may be waking soon." She paused, pushing the tray through the rectangular hole in the cell's door. "It isn't much, but I managed to find some leftovers from dinner."

Though she showed no reaction to the news, Egwene was a bit surprised Felaana had thought of her. The woman had been there when she was captured, and though she had kept Katerine from repeatedly slapping her, she had seemed to believe Egwene deserved to be executed. "At this point, stale bread and cold soup are quite welcome." There was no place to set the tray so she took the bowl of soup and bread and pushed the tray back toward Nicola. The thought of eating was enough to make her retch, but perhaps later she could manage to force some small amount of the soup down. She could almost hear Chesa chiding her to eat; the maid was convinced that Egwene never ate enough. "You should go, child. Even though you'll likely get out of your classes tomorrow"—Egwene knew from the secret histories that a public execution would mean novices and Accepted were dismissed from their classes—"you still need your rest."

Nicola flinched as though she had been slapped. "We have classes tomorrow, Mother. I…" Trailing off, the girl frowned. "You don't know, do you?" Egwene merely raised an eyebrow; such questions were superfluous, at best. Pointless, at worst. "You aren't to be executed. After your…your…"

"Birching and stilling," Egwene finished dryly. The Amyrlin could not flinch at mere words.

Nodding, Nicola managed to speak without stammering again. "Yes. Rumors spread quickly. I overheard some sisters discussing your fate and they said Elaida…well, she and the Hall decided not to have you executed. Instead you're to be her maid. They said that, if you proved you could take orders, your connection to the True Source would be Healed and you would be made a novice again."

Unable to help herself, Egwene laughed at that. Light! They had stilled her for no other reason than to break her will? Were they really that foolish? As much as she wished to feel the sweetness of _saidar_ flowing through her again, she would not bend knee to Elaida to obtain it. She would rather lose her head. But if she was to be released, and if she was to be that close to Elaida, she would be in the perfect position to bring the woman down. _When someone's connection to the True Source is severed, _Siuan had once told her, _she must find another reason to live. Something she wants as much as she wants to channel again. _Ridding the Tower of Elaida and, in turn, reclaiming what was rightfully hers was that thing for Egwene. She would see it done, and her connection to the True Source would be Healed, on her terms rather than Elaida's.

"You aren't upset, Mother?"

"You will learn one day, child," Egwene began, suddenly feeling quite famished, "that as long as you draw breath no situation is impossible. Now leave the lamp burning for me and get to bed." She gave an approving nod when Nicola curtsied deeply. "I shall see you soon."

As the door slammed closed behind the girl, Egwene smiled slightly. Hope sprung anew. All was not lost. Far from it. The rebellion would go on and she would lead it, from inside the White Tower itself. She had much to do before morning, though. Much to plan.

Hurriedly, she dipped the bread into the soup and began to eat. Thoughts of dignity disappeared as she hungrily devoured her meal. Chesa would have been proud.

* * *

Author's note: I apologize for the extreme delay. Unfortunately, after waiting months for this to be edited, I have come to the conclusion that my beta reader has ditched me yet again. The person I used for a backup took three weeks to edit two pages of this and I gave up on him as well, so please forgive any errors you see (and tell me!). If any of you are interested in becoming a beta reader for this story, please let me know. Otherwise, it appears I will have to edit this fic myself. That may take some time, but even with the extra time I should be able to publish the chapters more frequently than I have been. Hope you all enjoy it. I appreciate the feedback so far, so please continue so I know how I'm doing. :-)


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